C-2. 


JOHNA.SEAVERNS 


TUFTS   UNIVERSITY   LIBRARIES 


3  9090  013  419  003 


Webster  Family  Library  of  Veterinary  Medicine 
CumiTiings  School  of  Veterinary  Medicine  at 
Tufts  Univrirsity 
200  Weslboro  Road 
North  Grafton,  MA  01536 


CHASING   AND    RACING 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

THE     AMATEUR'S 
DERBY 

A    NOVEL 

[/«  the  Press 

THE    BODLEY    HEAD 


CHASING  AND  RACING 

SOME       SPORTING      REMINISCENCES 

BY  HARDING  COX 


NEW   YORK 
E.   P.    DUTTON    AND    COMPANY 

1922 


The  Portrait  of  the  Author  is  from 
A  Photograph   by 
Messrs.    ELLIOTT    &    FRY. 


PRINTED   IN   GREAT   BRITAIN   BY   WILLIAM   CLOWES    AND    SONS.   LTMITKD 

LONDON   AND   BBCCLES 


14,  Carlton   House  Terrace, 
Pall  Mall, 

London,  S.W. 

z(^th  October^  1921. 

My  dear  Harding  Cox, 

You  ask  me  to  write  a  "  Foreword "  to 
your  "  Reminiscences,"  but  I  fear  I  have  so  little 
literary  talent  that  1  should  only  disgrace  the  pro- 
duction. But  I  am  sure  your  "  Reminiscences  "  will 
be  most  interesting,  for  nobody  has  a  greater  experi- 
ence in  all  the  sports  of  the  world  than  you  have, 
and  whether  you  are  the  champion  of  the  lot  or  not 
is,  to  my  mind,  a  very  small  point.  It  is  the  interest 
people  take  and  their  insight  into  the  various  branches 
that  count,  rather  than  what  they  do  themselves ;  and 
certainly  you  have  always  taken  an  advanced  position 
in  that  from  your  early  days  of  Terriers  at  the 
Crystal  Palace  to  riding  in  the  Polo  Pony  Races  at 
Hurlingham,  and  under  Jockey  Club  and  National 
Hunt  rules. 

Wishing  you  all  the  best  of  luck, 
Believe  me, 

Yours  very  truly, 

LONSDALE.     (Signed.) 


PREFACE 

IN  setting  forth  my  reminiscences  of  Chasing  and 
Racing,  I  have  taken  a  rather  bold  step,  inas- 
much as  my  personal  experiences  as  a  Master 
of  Harriers  and  Foxhounds,  and  as  an  amateur 
rider,  have  been  confined  to  *'  provincial  "  packs,  and  for 
the  most  part,  as  regards  race  riding,  to  very  moderate 
specimens  of  the  equine  race  ;  but  as  one  who  loved 
the  hounds  which  he  hunted,  and  the  "blood  ''  which 
carried  him  under  Jockey  Club  and  National  Hunt 
rules,  I  venture  to  hope  that  the  idiosyncrasies,  and 
what  I  may  term  the  "  personalities,"  of  these  incon- 
spicuous animals,  will  appeal  to  those  who  take  a  real 
interest  in  hounds,  hunters,  and  racehorses,  apart  from 
their  face  value  as  means  to  an  end  only — as  pawns  in 
the  great  games  of  the  hunting-field  and  the  racecourse 
respectively. 

I  had  hoped  that  the  portraits  of  some  of  the 
canine  and  equine  heroes  and  heroines  which  figure 
in  these  pages  might  appear  in  this  volume  ;  but,  by 
an  evil  stroke  of  luck,  all  my  albums  containing  these 
counterfeit    presentments    were,     a    few    years    ago. 


VII 


viii  PREFACE 

destroyed  in  a  devastating  fire,  which  levelled  to  the 
ground  the  repository  in  which  they  had  been  stored 
during  one  of  my  many  migrations.  And  with  them 
perished  all  those  notes,  diaries,  and  cuttings,  on  which 
I  had  relied  for  my  data  ;  so  that  only  the  ashes  of 
memory  remained  to  stimulate  my  pen.  On  this 
ephemeral  faculty  of  memory,  therefore,  I  have  had 
to  rely  entirely  ;  so  1  trust  that  such  readers  as  I  may 
have  will  make  due  allowance  for  any  inaccuracies  or 
anachronisms  which  may  appear  in  the  following  pages. 
I  had  set  forth  on  my  labour  of  love  to  chronicle  my 
rambling  reminiscences  in  many  connections  besides 
Chasing  and  Racing,  such  as  coursing,  shooting, 
angling,  rowing,  and  various  other  experiences  ;  but 
I  soon  found  that  the  great  games  of  hunting  and 
racing  exhausted  the  space  allotted  to  me.  If  the 
fates  are  propitious  I  may  yet  have  an  opportunity  for 
dealing  with  these  other  ventures  in  which  1  have 
exploited  my  sporting  tastes  and  ambitions. 

HARDING    COX. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 


PACK 


My  first  mount — My  first  sight  of  "  colours "" — Two  turf  yarns — 
Sir  George  Chetwynd  and  the  sneak-thief — "  The  Mate  "  holds 
his  own — "  The  Boys  "  at  Buntingford      .....  i 

CHAPTER   II 

Death  of  my  beloved  father — My  inheritance — Edward  William 
Jaquet — Fidus  Achates — Our  menage  at  Twickenham — My 
first  real  race  meeting — My  canine  shadow — Ted  and  I  marry 
two  sisters;  a  double  wedding — My  first  racing  pony  and  a 
bad  start  at  Hurlingham — Jesse  Winfield  sets  me  on  the  right 
track — A  fine  average — The  peerless  Catona — An  Irish  excur- 
sion— "  Rough  stuff "  which  misfired  .         .         .         .         .12 

CHAPTER   III 

"  Be  thou  pure  as  ice  and  chaste  as  snow,  thou  shalt  not  escape 
calumny  ■" — Etna  the  double  of  Catona — The  Usher,  a  rusher  ! — 
An  oversight  leads  to  legal  action — Lord  Finlay  of  Nairn  and 
Lord  Russell  of  Killowen — The  National  Pony  and  Galloway 
Club — Harry  de  Windt — Innocence  invites  suspicion — Ted's 
tits — Virtue  its  own  reward — "  Charlie  "  Beresford — **  Harry  " 
Bentley — A  trial  and  its  sequel — Some  conspicuous  riders  .         .       28 

CHAPTER   IV 

We  establish  ourselves  at  Missenden  Abbey — A  scratch  pack — I 
inaugurate  the  Missenden  Harriers — The  Belhus  hunters — 
Yeoman  and  Melbury — A  strange  coincidence — I  absorb  the 
Hambleden  Vale  Harriers — William  Snaith  and  the  Cripps' 
family — The  ethics  of  stag-hunting — The  wild  and  the  carted 
stag — A  kill  in  the  open — "  He  laughs  best  who  laughs  last  l" — 
First  words  about  "Roddy  "  Owen    ......       46 


IX 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  V 


PAGE 


Back  to  pony  racing — A  home  meeting — "Bunny"  Leigh — 
"  Gratty  "  Blagrave  and  Charlie  A'Court  (Col.  Repington) — 
Missenden  trout  :  a  three-pounder — A  glorious  evening's 
sport — The  Misburn  dries  up — Chequers  Court — A  prepos- 
terous claim  that  failed — Vale  !  Missenden  Abbey  and  the 
M.  &  H.V.H.— The  O.B.H.  East  and  West—"  Uncle  Punch  " 
— I  am  offered  the  Mastership  of  the  whole  country — Lord 
Lonsdale,  a  friend  in  need — The  "  Gay  Gordons " —  Mr. 
Chaplin  lends  me  the  Blankney  pack  .....       64 

CHAPTER   VI 

Cubbing — My  Curraghmore  bitches — Blanche,  Lady  Waterford — 
"Dear  old  Bricket  " — Tom  Firr — "A  bad  huntsman  cannot 
make  a  good  pack  " — Lord  Chesham — A  cabal — Bob  Webber — 
Fishing  in  the  Chess — The  Drakes  of  Shardeloes — "  Mr.  Ekard  " 
— A  close  contest     ......         .         .         .       'j6 

CHAPTER   VII 

Outlying  foxes — Peter  Chutterbuck — Stanmore  Common^ — A  by-day 
and  the  run  of  my  life — Brother  Irwin  "  gets  the  wind  up  " — 
All  my  eye — "  For  it  !  " — A  general  meeting — Defeat  of  the 
Committee — I  am  too  magnanimous  .  .         .  .         -91 

CHAPTER   VIII 

Social  strictures — The  O.B.H.  country  again  divided — "Mutey" 
Drake — Pity  the  poor  M.F.H. — The  debacle  :  Hounds  and 
horses  under  the  hammer — Samson  and  Trimmer — Rare  old 
Landsman,  an  ideal  hound — A  forgotten  tragedy       .         .         .100 

CHAPTER   IX 

A*  rash  wager — "  AlFs  well  that  ends  well  " — The  huntsman  hunted 
— Happy  days  at  Brigstock — "  Rock  "  and  "  Tony  ^  Burghersh 
— A  hunting  tour  in  the  shires — The  Fitzwilliam  and  Bache 
Cunards — "  Sugar  Candy  " — A  duchess  in  embryo — The  stone 
walls  of  Blankney — Another  "  busman's  holiday  " — "  A  pushing 
young  particle  " — Purblind  and  almost  dislocated — Neck  or 
nothing  !,         .         .         ..         ,         .         .         .         .         .110 


CONTENTS  xi 


CHAPTER   X 


PAGE 


The  curse  of  versatility — My  first  winner  under  "legitimate  "  rules — 
A  Chester  Cup  veteran — Lady  Frederick — Racehorse  'v.  Pony  ! 
— Left  at  the  post — My  new  colours — Enter  Weasel,  "  the 
wonder  worker  !" — A  rare  bargain — Guinevere  "  the  genuine  "      122 


CHAPTER   XI 

More  about  Weasel — My  first  mount  on  him — Misplaced  gallantry 
— "Bonnety  Bob" — Armada — "There's  many  a  slip  " — So  near 
and  yet  so  far — A  dead  heat — Class  must  tell — "  Geoie ""  Gunnis 
and  his  Mongrel — Listeners  hear  no  good  of  themselves — Never 
say  die— A  sensational  race  and  a  priceless  protagonist"     .         .      129 


CHAPTER   XII 

The  sportive  double — "The  Boden  Eccentric" — My  first  ride  on 
Latimer — The  first  barrel  of  "  the  double  "  scores  an  easy  win — 
Latimer,  proxime  accessit  at  Lewes — A  promising  hurdler  comes 
to  a  sad  end — A  nice  wager — Weasel  and  I  opposed  by  the 
crack  amateurs — A  tortoise  and  hare  race — Weasel  gets  home 
by  a  short  head  and  "  clicks  the  double  " — A  hundred  to  one 
chance  in  a  field  of  three  scores — The  fatal  policy  of  over- 
confidence         ..........     146 


CHAPTER  XIII 

My  last  ride  on  Weasel — The  best  of  friends  must  part — Stable 
companions  of  equal  prowess — Weasel  and  Hugger  Mugger, 
"fifty-fifty" — A  crack  amateur  in  opposition — A  desperate 
finish  between  four — Weasel  obliges  for  the  last  time — His 
otium  cum  dignitate — The  "  undefeated  Tommy  Lushington  "  ■ 
and  hefty  "  Bill  "  Moore — Weasel's  understudy — Not  an  arm- 
chair ride — I  "  ride  "  a  Grand  National  and  a  Derby  winner  ! — 
I  am  installed  at  Headbourne  Worthy — My  Jidus  Achates  as 
manager — W.  H.  Manser  and  his  family — "  Woggy  "       .         .156 


xii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   XIV 


PAGE 


George  Thursby  makes  his  bow — "  An  unequal  match  "  (alleged) — 
Trelaske  nj.  Foghorn — George  fails  to  take  revenge  at  "  the 
doves  " — Roscidus,  "  the  prince  of  rogues,"  takes  on  St.  Bede 
and  chucks  up  the  sponge — Another  "  unequal  match  " — 
Trelaske  nj.  the  Pusher — An  impertinent  comment  and  a 
humorous  one  !  .         .         .         .         ,         .         .         .         .166 


CHAPTER   XV 

The  purchase  of  Dornroschen  at  the  Doncaster  sales  for  "  a  song  " — 
Gurry  is  contemptuous  but  Davis  is  wise  to  merit — She  wins 
when  pig  fat  and  I  buy  her  in — An  historic  match  and  amazing 
wagering  thereon — The  Ring  hilarious — Doinroschen  lowers 
the  mile  time  record  when  winning  the  Nottingham  handicap — 
Purchase  of  Blankney — A  colossal  steed — Blankney  'V,  Macun- 
cas — "  Jimmy  ""  Duke  in  the  cart  again      .         .         .         .         .176 


CHAPTER   XVI 

Our  little  lot  at  Headbourne  Worthy — The  High  Peak  Welter — 
Trelaske  a  stayer — Speed  and  stamina — The  wonderful  memory 
of  the  equine  race  :  two  striking  examples — A  fatal  bolt  from 
Heaven — Chevy  Chase,  amiable  but  unlucky— An  error  of 
judgment — I  breed  a  winner  and  annex  a  prize  for  nomenclature 
— "  Picking  'em  up  cheap  !  " — My  '*  skins  ""  win  five  times 
their  purchasing  price  ! — I  pay  four  figures  for  a  filly  who 
never  wins  me  a  brass  farthing — Marcus  Beresford  has  "not 
time  to  look  !" .         .         .185 


CHAPTER   XVn 

A  sad  disaster  to  Dornroschen — An  official  handicapper  "  side-slips," 
but  I  fail  to  take  advantage — The  Jockey  Ring — A  funny 
favourite  "  clicks  " — An  old  head  on  young  shoulders — Honesty 
rewarded  and  the  biter  bit — The  dying  jockey's  admonition       .      195 


CONTENTS  xiii 


CHAPTER   XVIII 


PAGE 


"The  Jubilee  Plunger" — His  love  for  children  and  dogs — A  "fly 
flat  " — A  try  out  at  pyramids — A  side-slip  and  a  prison — 
Undefeated  spirit — Tod  Sloan  not  the  first  "  croucher  " — The 
advantages  of  '*  the  crouch  "  and  its  faults — The  ivorst  seat  and 
the  best  hands — Tod  demonstrates — No  advocate  of  catgut 
coercion — Tod  the  philosopher — The  pot  boils  over — Never 
"v^^arned  off,"  but  "advised  not  to  apply" — Tod's  sun  sets — A 
beautiful  wife  and  a  spectacular  cropper — Captain  Roderick 
Owen  —The  resourceful  Roddy — His  sad  end     ....     208 


CHAPTER   XIX 

Thrilling  finishes — Melton  1;.  Paradox — The  mighty  Ormonde — 
The  Bard — The  unlucky  prefix  "  The  " — The  homeric  struggle 
between  Ormonde  and  Minting — Ard  Patrick  ^.  Sceptre — 
Alsopp,  Madden,  Bradford,  and  Calder — Bradford's  first  mount 
— H.R.H.  puts  me  wise — So  does  Jack  Gubbins — Galtee  More's 
super-excellence — Unbeaten  horses — "The  Spotted  Wonder'' — 
Would  he  have  won  the  Derby  ? — The  weak  link  in  his  heredi- 
tary chain — Isonomy  and  his  lazy  but  brilliant  son  Isinglass — 
The  best  I  have  seen  run — The  best  looking — The  ugliest  .     218 


CHAPTER   XX 

Mr.  Jersey  and  Jeanne — A  musical  amanuensis — Open  house  at  Regal 
Lodge — Captain  Machell — A  welcome  "  retriever  " — A  Very- 
Great  Personage — The  perfidious  Peter — Putting  my  foot  in  it 
— The  Prince's  tip — Jeddah  disappoints,  but  pops  up  unexpec- 
tedly— A  himdred  to  one  winner  of  the  Derby — Mr.  Jersey's 
foresight — Merman  makes  good  but  Aurum  misses  fire — Lady 
Rosebery,  a  welcome  legacy — Amberite  "no  gentleman  !"  .     237 


CHAPTER   XXI 

Arthur  Coventry — Blankney  takes  revenge — Dornroschen  and  I  slam 
Blanc  and  Arthur — "  Tommy  "  Lushington  undefeated — "  Bill  " 
Moore,  George    Baird,    Bobbie  Fisher,   and   "  The   Child  " — 


XIV  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

"Roddy"  and  "Rock"— The  Earl  of  Dudley— "  Wengy," 
Charlie  Cunningham,  Dan  Thirlwell,  and  "  Mr.  Charles  " — 
Major  Frank.  Atkinson,  "  one  of  the  best " — A  plethora  of  tips 
— Humphries''  day  out — A  colossal  "  win,"  but  no  cash  ! — A 
catch  bet ...........     247 


CHAPTER   XXII 

Dreams  ! — A  very  vivid  one  which  materialized— A  cryptic  dream 
which  left  me  guessing — The  Animals'  Derby — The  Squirrel 
**  home  "  first  ! — The  right  colours  but  the  wrong  colt ! — George 
Fordham's  only  Derby  triumph         .         .         .         .         .         .256 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Jockeys  of  the  old  school — Johnny  Osborne  does  me  a  service — So 
does  Tom  Cannon,  senior — I  patronize  the  apprentices  and  prove 
a  mascot  to  them — The  Chaloner  and  the  Loates'  families — 
Jesse  Page — George  Fordham  "quite  understands" — "I  shall 
never  get  home  by  a  nob  " — "  Phwat  detained  yez  ? "         .         .     262 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

Presentiments  ! — Cabin  Boy's  victory  foretold — The  mystery  of 
Medora — I  am  warned  that  Persimmon  is  destined  to  beat  St. 
Frusquin — La  Fleche's  downfall,  not  her  true  form — St.  Simon 
to  the  rescue — End  of  my  racing  reminiscences  .         .         .267 


ENVOI 

finger   in   every  pie — I   could  not  specialize — The  curse  of  ver- 
satility— Sport  and   sportsmen — Field   sports  proper — The  cant 
of  cruelty — Falconry — A    natural    flight — Sparrow    hawks   <v. 
Heron — The  harried  quails 273 


CHASING   AND    RACING 


CHAPTER   I 

IT  has  been  said  that  the  true  horseman  is  so 
born,  not  made,  and  that  hereditary  leanings 
are  sure  to  manifest  themselves  during  the 
up-bringing  of  the  child.  Every  rule  has 
its  exceptions  to  prove  its  efficacy  ;  though  where 
this  same  heredity  fails,  its  forebear,  atavism,  may 
manifest  itself  irregularly  and  sporadically,  missing 
several  generations  before  revealing  itself  in  some  unit 
whose  immediate  parentage  gave  no  hint  of  the  trait  in 
question. 

So  it  must  have  been  in  my  own  case,  for  I  came 
of  a  stock  sorely  afflicted  with  hippophobia  (a  word  of 
which  I  hold,  I  should  imagine,  the  copyright,  and  by 
which  I  claim  to  signify,  "  fear  of  horses,"  derived,  of 
course,  from  the  Greek  1777709 — a  horse,  and  ^ojBia 
fear).  That  is  to  say,  so  far  as  bestriding  the  noble 
steed  is  concerned  ;  for  some  of  my  near  relatives, 
notably  my  distinguished  "  Dads  "  could  handle  the 
ribbons  quite  efficiently  ;  but  as  for  throwing  a  leg 
over  one  of  his  favourites,  nothing  would  have  induced 
him  to  court  the  adventure,  although  an  occasion  did 
arrive,  when  such  became  inevitable.  This  was  when 
our  late  beloved  King  Edward  was  married  to  the  "  Sea 

I  B 


2  CHASING  AND   RACING 

King's  Daughter.**  •  It  was  arranged  that  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Middlesex  and  his  posse  of  Deputy- 
Lieutenants  were  to  act  as  escort  in  the  wedding  pro- 
cession. My  excellent  parent  being  of  the  cult,  found 
himself  in  the  awful  predicament  of  having  to  venture 
outside  one  of  the  dreaded  beasts,  or  to  give  up  par- 
ticipation in  the  historical  event.  So  he  screwed  up 
his  courage  and  was  hoisted,  in  all  the  splendour  of  his 
official  garb,  on  to  the  back  of  a  particularly  amiable 
and  plegmatic  drum  horse,  borrowed  from  H.M.*s 
Life  Guards.  With  a  stalwart  trooper  to  hold  his  (my 
parent's  not  the  gee's)  legs,  "off"  and  "fore,"  the 
ordeal  was  successfully  negotiated  ;  but  though  the 
staid  old  black  had  not  ventured  out  of  a  walk  from 
first  to  last,  the  dear  old  "  Dads  "  suffered  pangs  in 
the  lumbar  region  for  many  days  that  supervened. 
When  I  was  a  nipper,  there  was  a  tradition  rife  among 
my  female  relatives  that  one  of  my  father's  brothers 
had  been  a  devil  of  a  rider.  In  fact,  some  went  so  far 
as  to  declare  that  he  had  been  a  "  gentleman  jockey  ;  " 
but  when  or  where  he  had  distinguished  himself  in  the 
pig-skin,  I  never  could  discover.  Anyway,  he  passed 
in  his  checks  at  an  early  age  ;  his  demise,  so  I  was 
informed,  being  due  to  copious  libations  ;  which  may 
have  cheered,  and  undoubtedly  did,  intoxicate. 

So  much  for  my  Uncle  Dudley. 

It  was  left  to  me  to  revive  the  tradition  as  far  as 
the  horse-riding  part  of  it  was  concerned  ;  albeit  I  was 
not  seized  with  any  inordinate  desire  to  distinguish 


CHASING  AND   RACING  3 

myself  as  an  equestrian  of  the  haute  ecoky  in  my  early 
days. 

My  first  venture,  however,  brought  out  that  com- 
petitive spirit  which  has  been  an  ever  recurrent  and 
abiding  trait  in  my  character. 

My  Cousin  **  Ted  **  Jaquet,"^  son  of  my  father *s 
sister,  Harriet — better  and  more  affectionately  known 
as  "  Bunny  " — had,  with  his  sister  Alicia,  been  brought 
up  in  our  London  residence,  36,  Russell  Square,  and 
consequently  we  were  on  the  terms  of  closest  friend- 
ship ;  though  I  had  encumbered  the  earth  for  three 
years  longer  than  he  had.  When  lads  are  in  their 
"  teens  "  three  years  count  and  account  for  much.  I 
am  afraid  I  rather  lorded  it  over  Ted  in  those  days, 
and  was  inclined,  at  times,  to  play  the  bully  ;  but  as 
we  grew  older  the  value  of  the  hiatus  from  my  point  of 
view,  gradually  disappeared,  until  there  came  a  day 
when  my  young  relative  openly  defied  me.  I  could 
not  give  away  the  weight  (about  two  stone),  and  there- 
fore my  physical  supremacy  came  to  an  untimely  end. 

When  my  father  died,  at  the  normal  span  of  seventy 
years,  he  left  me  a  fortune,  and  the  implied  duty  of 
"  looking  after  '*  Ted,  who  had  then  just  attained  his 
majority  and  had  lately  been  bought  out  of  the  8th 
Hussars,  in  which  distinguished  regiment  my  cousin's 

*  Shortly  after  I  had  written  the  last  of  these  pages,  Nov. 
1 92 1,  death  robbed  me  of  this  life-long  friend,  brother-in-law, 
and  first  cousin,  the  energetic,  genial,  and  thoroughly  efficient 
secretary  of  the  Kennel  Club.     R,I.P. — H.  C. 


4  CHASING  AND   RACING 

adventurous  spirit  had  constrained  him  to  enHst.  An 
experience  by  the  way  which,  later  on,  served  him  in 
good  stead,  when  he  and  I  were  sporting  the  gorgeous 
**  outfit "  of  the  Duke  of  Cambridge's  Hussars 
(M.Y.C.).  I  now  installed  him  Secretary  of  State, 
Agent  General,  Chief  of  the  Staff,  Q.M.G.,  Fidus 
Achates,  and  boon  companion — a  sort  of  personal  Pooh 
Bah,  in  fact.  Like  myself,  there  was  nothing  in  his 
pedigree  which  suggested  horsemanship  as  a  likely 
recrudescence  ;  but  assuredly  he  was  obsessed  with  the 
desire  to  disport  himself  in  this  direction  ;  though  his 
too  solid  flesh  forbade  dreams  of  glory  on  the  race- 
course. 

I  must  go  back  a  bit  to  describe  our  first  equine 
adventure. 

In  our  stables  at  my  beloved  home.  Moat  Mount, 
situated  on  the  summit  of  Highwood  Hill — the 
highest  point  of  the  county  of  Middlesex — there  were, 
besides  Tommy  and  Pet,  the  bay  and  grey  cobs, 
driven  by  '*  The  Dads,*'  a  pair  of  "  camels,"  whose 
duty  it  was  to  drag  the  family  barouche,  containing 
my  mother,  when  she  paid  formal  calls  on  the  neigh- 
bouring "  quality  ''  (she  was  mostly  of  Irish  blood, 
with  a  dash  of  French)  or  when  she  devoted  two  and 
a  half  weary  hours  to  divine  worship  on  the  Sabbath. 
These  ponderous  ''  coach  horses  "  were  named  respec- 
tively Castor  and  Pollux,  and  it  was  difficult  to  tell 
"  t'other  from  which,"  either  in  appearance,  pace  and 
action  (alike  inconspicuous)  or  temperament. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  5 

Came  a  time  when  "  The  Mums  '*  was  recruiting 
her  health  by  the  sad  sea  shore  (she  was  a  semi- 
paralytic,  poor  soul,  and  needed  these  annual  relaxa- 
tions). 

So  Messrs.  C.  and  P.  were  kept  in  the  stables, 
eating  their  heads  off  and  waxing  more  gross  and 
plethoric  daily. 

The  fact  struck  Ted  as  unreasonable,  and  he  sug- 
gested that  they  should  be  called  upon  to  convey  our 
vile  bodies  on  their  broad  backs.  I  had  my  qualms, 
not  I  regret  to  say,  of  conscience,  but  of  nerves  ! 
Having  conquered  my  misgivings,  on  the  noblesse 
oblige  principle,  we  deliberately  bribed  the  coachman, 
commandeered  the  noble  animals,  and  set  forth. 
Goodness  only  knows  if  either  gee  had  been  pre- 
viously '*  backed,"  but  they  behaved  in  angelic  style. 
So  much  so,  indeed,  that  my  soul  having  grown 
stronger,  I  actually  suggested  a  race  on  the  turnpike 
road  1  Always  ready  for  any  sport,  Ted  agreed,  and 
we  lined  up  with  a  good  straight  mile  of  macadam  in 
front  of  us.  When  the  mutually  agreed  signal  was 
given  and  the  flag  fell,  Castor  and  Pollux  "  began 
slowly  "  as  the  sporting  papers  have  it  ;  but  a  liberal 
administration  of  the  blackthorn  awakened  them  to 
their  responsibilities,  and  they  put  in  good  work. 
Being  evenly  matched,  despite  the  handicap  of  Ted*s 
superior  weight,  the  struggle  was  intense  and  the 
two — owing  to  their  constant  parallel  association,  with 
the    pole    of    the    barouche    between     them — kept 


6  CHASING   AND   RACING 

religiously  head  to  head.  My  primitive  idea  of 
**  finishing  *'  was  to  let  my  mount  have  an  absolutely 
free  rein.  Under  normal  circumstances  this  would 
have  stopped  him,  and  given  victory  to  Castor  (Pollux 
was  my  mount),  but  in  this  case  it  did  not  affect  the 
result,  which  was  a  dead  heat  ;  though  both  Ted  and 
myself  stoutly  claimed  a  head  victory,  and  the  stakes 
of"  one  bob,**  which  had  been  agreed  upon. 

Well,  we  just  managed  to  get  the  poor  "  heavenly 
twins  "  back  to  the  seclusion  of  their  respective  boxes, 
but  that  was  about  all.  Needless  to  say  that  the 
family  barouche  remained  silent  and  inert  in  the 
coachhouse  for  many  a  long  day  ;  whilst  the  local 
vet.  had  the  time  of  his  life. 

So  ended  my  first  race,  which  occurred  during  the 
holidays,  when  I  was  a  Harrovian. 

At  Cambridge  I  devoted  myself  to  the  river,  where 
I  had  the  distinction  of  creating  a  record,  which  so 
far  as  I  can  ascertain,  has  never  been  lowered. 

Perhaps  space  will  enable  me  to  deal  with  my 
exploits  in  the  boats  later  on  ;  but  for  the  moment, 
I  must  **  cut  cackle  and  come  to  the  'osses.'* 

I  did  a  bit  of  hacking  when  up  at  Trinity  ;  but  I 
did  not  hunt,  except  on  foot,  with  the  college  beagles. 
Nor  did  I  patronize  ''  The  Grind  ;  '*  but  I  had  seen 
"  colours,"  and  had  heard  the  thunder  of  hoofs  and 
the  crack  of  lethal  catgut,  even  before  I  became  a 
member  of  the  University  ;  to  wit — when  I  was 
coaching  for  the  Trinity  Matriculation  with  my  kind 


CHASING  AND   RACING  7 

old  god-father.  Canon  Harding  Girdlestone,  at 
Gloucester.  His  son,  Theophilus,  and  I  used  to 
wander  about  exploring  Nature,  and  sampling  her  gifts. 
One  day  we  happened  on  the  confines  of  the  race- 
course during  the  progress  of  a  meeting,  and  having 
mounted  a  high  bank,  we  had  an  excellent  view  of  the 
proceedings,  as  far  as  the  back-stretch  was  concerned  ; 
though  the  stands  and  winning  post  were  remote  from 
our  eyes.  But  my  blood  was  fired.  I  did  not  know 
the  names  of  the  horses,  nor  of  the  jockeys,  nor  whose 
colours  they  wore  ;  but  I  waxed  excited  as  the  fields 
swept  by — the  riders  shouting  and  cursing,  and  the 
dust  flying  !  '*  Theo  '*  was  bored  to  tears,  but  I  was 
spell-bound.  Only  once  when  I  was  "up''  at 
Cambridge  did  I  attend  a  race-meeting,  cap-a-pie — my 
first  experience.  This  was  a  jump  affair  at  Aylesbury, 
whither  I  had  been  escorted  by  some  of  my  more 
sporting  Varsity  pals.  My  impressions  of  this  ad- 
venture are  somewhat  vague.  The  "  sticks "  and 
**  flags  "  never  appealed  to  me  as  did,  and  do,  flat- 
racing  ;  but  I  remember  on  this  occasion  being 
relieved  of  my  silver  watch,  which,  strange  to  say, 
illustrates  an  incident  that  stands  alone.  Despite  my 
long  experience  of  race-courses  of  all  sorts  and  sizes 
this  was  the  only  occasion  on  which  my  person  or 
my  property  has  been  interfered  with. 

A  propos.  This  may  be  counted  an  opportunity 
for  the  interpolation  of  a  couple  of  yarns,  which  may 
perhaps  be  accorded  a  leaven  of  humour. 


8  CHASING  AND   RACING 

The  late  Sir  George  Chetwynd  had  been  presented 
with  a  scarf  pin  by  some  admirer  or  admirers,  the 
sentimental  worth  of  which  exceeded  its  intrinsic 
value  ;  but  it  disappeared  from  its  satin  sanctuary 
one  fine  day  at  Ascot.  Its  owner  waxed  wroth,  and 
as  he  was  acquainted  with  a  certain  doyen  of  the  "  boys,'* 
he  sougnt  out  that  worthy  and  complained  bitterly 
that  he,  as  an  owner,  should  be  subjected  to  such 
illegitimate  pilfering. 

"  All  right.  Sir  George,"  protested  the  "  head.'* 
**  It's  all  a  mistake  of  some  blithering  novice  of 
ours,  ril  see  you  gets  it  back  all  right.  Go 
over  to  ver  firs  on  ver  far  side,  at  the  long  interval, 
and  yer  pin  will  be  'anded  back  to  yer — see  ! 
But  you'll  'ave  ter  come  acrost  wiv'  a  couple  of 
thick  'uns,  jest  ter  show  there's  no  blinkin'  ani- 
mosity." 

And  so  it  turned  out  :  the  Sporting  Baronet 
retrieved  his  beloved  pin,  and  the  chap  who  handed 
it  over  received  the  stipulated  honorarium. 

Later  on.  Sir  George,  having  an  early  engagement 
in  town,  decided  to  miss  the  last  race  and  to  take 
his  place  in  the  first  waiting  train.  Comfortably 
ensconced,  and  enjoying  a  contemplative  weed,  he 
became  aware  of  a  respectably  dressed  little  chap, 
who  might  have  been  a  methodist  preacher  or  an 
undertaker  on  the  loose.  He  kept  perambulating 
past  the  carriage,  and  peering  at  its  occupant.  At 
last  he  paused  and  gave  tongue. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  9 

"  Beggy  pardin,  Gov'nor.  Might  you  'appen  to 
be  Sir  George  Chetwynd  ?  " 

The  answer  was  in  the  affirmative,  with  the 
addition  of  the  reasonable  query,  **  What  can  I  do  for 
you  ?  '' 

"  Well  it's  this  way,"  began  the  interloper  ;  **  you 
'ad  a  pin  pinched  on  the  course  didn't  yer  ?  " 

The  listener  assented,  but  assured  his  questioner 
that  the  gaud  had  been  recovered,  and  that  everything 
in  the  garden  was  lovely  ! 

But  the  baronet  was  beset  by  a  further  "  interroga- 
tory." 

**  That's  all  right,  Guv'nor,  but  would  you  mind 
tellin'  me,  in  strict  confidence,  'ow  much  you  bunged 
over  to  the  bloke  wot  'anded  you  yer  property  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  how  it  concerns  you  mi' 
lad,"  responded  Sir  George  ;  "  but  if  it  is  of  vital 
importance  that  you  should  be  acquainted  with  the 
exact  sum  that  passed,  I  don't  mind  confiding  to  you, 
that  it  was  two  pounds  sterling." 

"  Blyme  1  a  couple  o'  quid  !  'Ark  at  that  now  ! 
So  'elp  me  Gawd,  they  only  gave  me  'arf  a  thick  un, 
and  I  was  the  guy  wot  pinched  it  orf  yer  !  " 

A  gang  of  roughs  once  had  the  temerity  to  attempt 
to  turn  Sir  George  Astley  (affectionately  known  as 
**  The  Mate ")  upside  down,  and  to  shake  all  he 
carried  out  of  his  pockets  ;  but  they  caught  a  tartar. 
The  genial  and  breezy  baronet  was  no  mean  performer 
with  **  the  raw  'uns,"  and  after  he  had  neatly  laid  out 


lo  CHASING  AND   RACING 

three  of  the  crowd,  the  rest  suddenly  remembered  that 
they  had  an  important  engagement  elsewhere,  and 
so  took  to  their  heels,  raising  a  miniature  sand  storm, 
which  completely  concealed  their  retreating  forms. 
These  cowardly  rascals  have  been  the  curse  of  the 
turf  from  time  immemorial,  and  so  far  from  their 
activities  having  been  diminished  as  time  goes  on, 
they  grow  bolder,  and  even  more  brutal  than  of  yore. 
The  railway  authorities  and  the  police  seem  to  be 
quite  unable  to  cope  with  the  crooks  ;  though  all  are 
identified. 

I  suppose  there  is  some  truth  in  the  adage  which 
ascribes  honour  to  thieves.  Among  these  ruffians 
there  is  one  law  which  is  pretty  strictly  observed. 
No  owner,  trainer  or  jockey  is  to  be  robbed  :  for  it 
is  recognized  that  through  these,  racing  exists.  If 
there  were  no  race-courses  one  of  the  most  prolific 
fields  of  enterprise  would  be  closed  to  the  activities 
of  the  "Boys." 

On  one  occasion,  at  a  little  meeting  at  Buntingford, 
the  promoters  had  neglected  to  call  in  the  aid  of  the 
police,  thinking  that  their  venue  would  not  be  deemed 
worthy  of  attention  by  these  same  **  Boys.'*  It  was 
patronized  by  all  the  *'  toffs  '*  of  the  county,  who  flocked 
to  the  course  from  far  and  near,  in  four-in-hands, 
tandems,  and  other  sporting  conveyances  ;  bringing 
with  them  their  womenkind,  bedizened  with  a  blaze 
of  jewellery.  The  family  plate  was  conspicuous,  and 
when  the  luncheon  interval  arrived,  at  a  given  signal, 


CHASING   AND   RACING  ii 

an  attack  was  pressed  home  by  the  roughs.  After 
having  filled  the  silver  bowls  with  the  choicest  vintages 
of  their  unwilling  hosts,  their  health  was  drunk  with 
acclamation  to  the  very  dregs,  and  then  the  trophies, 
plus  forks,  spoons,  and  other  utensils  of  sterling  metal, 
were  transferred  to  convenient  sacks  and  dispatched 
to  some  melting  furnace,  the  situation  of  which  was 
more  than  problematical.  Moreover,  the  ladies  were 
urgently  pressed  to  bestow  souvenirs  in  the  shape 
of  diamonds  and  other  precious  stones  on  their  husky 
**  guests  '*  and  none  dared  to  refuse.  After  that, 
the  gang  devoted  themselves  to  the  real  business  of 
the  day — viz.  racing.  The  few  "  bookies  **  present 
were  freely  patronized,  but  the  punters  took  no  risks. 
They  chose  their  own  favourite  and  made  sure  of  its 
**  clicking  "  by  the  simple  expedient  of  sending  patrols 
to  all  the  fences,  to  stop  any  horse  and  rider  (except 
their  own  choice)  who  seemed  to  have  the  remotest 
chance  of  landing  the  stakes.  They  did  pretty  well 
at  this,  but  decided  that  the  pencillers  ought  not  to 
be  allowed  to  depart  with  any  superfluous  dross 
remaining  over — after  the  aforesaid  operations — 
and  acted  accordingly.  To  illuminate  the  end  of 
a  perfect  day  the  exuberant  "  lads  *'  set  fire  to  all 
the  fences  and  stands,  and  departed,  drunken,  but 
happy  in  a  blaze  of  glory. 
Hark  back  ! 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  night  came  when,  on  entering  my  dear 
old  dad's  study,  I  found  him  dead  in  his 
chair.     He  had  never  had  a  day's  serious 
illness  in  his  life,  and  had  always  prayed 
that  his  end  might  be  sudden. 
His  prayer  was  heard  ! 

"  His  life  was  beautiful,"  I  cried, 
"  As  he  has  lived,  so  has  he  died." 

It  was  a  terrible  shock,  which  threw  me  into  a 
state  of  neurasthenia  for  the  time  being.  We  had 
been  such  pals  and  had  always  seen  eye  to  eye  in 
regarding  the  forces  and  necessities  of  Nature,  which, 
despite  man's  fatuous  endeavours,  must  remain  un- 
alterable and  implacable  to  all  eternity. 

My  father  was  a  just  man,  and  had  little  respect 
for  the  hard  and  fast  rule  of  primogeniture.  Conse- 
quently his  considerable  fortune  was  equally  divided 
between  my  half-brother,  Irwin,  my  sister  Ada  (Mrs. 
Bennett-Edwards),  and  myself  ;  but  we  were  to  be 
life  beneficiaries  only — with  remainder  to  our  respec- 
tive offspring  in  esse  and  in  -posse.  At  that  time, 
mine  were  in  fosse  ;    but  Irwin's  hardly  likewise,  as 

12 


CHASING  AND   RACING  13 

he  had  been  married  for  nearly  twenty  years,  without 
issue,  and  his  wife  was,  poor  soul,  a  hopeless  invalid. 
But  my  sister  had  a  quiver-full. 

Just  before  we  lost  our  dear  old  "  Dads,'*  I  had 
become  engaged  to  Ted  Jaquet's  sister,  my  first  cousin, 
Alicia  ;  but  "  The  Mums "  did  not  approve  of 
consanguineous  marriages,  so  the  romance  failed  to 
materialize.  Consequently  I  was  fancy  free  when, 
having  handled  some  of  my  inheritance  "  on  account,'* 
I  took  a  furnished  house  in  Kensington,  which  Ted 
and  I  made  our  H.Q.  what  time  we  were  running 
around.  We  brought  back  a  pair  of  goats  from  the 
Emerald  Isle  and  turned  them  loose  in  the  garden 
attached  to  Cleeve  Lodge,  where  they  proceeded  to 
play  such  havoc  that  I  had  to  disburse  £,2^0  when  my 
tenancy  came  to  an  end  ! 

Then  I  had  leanings  toward  a  strictly  rural  life 
and  so  secured  a  furnished  abode  at  Twickenham, 
where  Ted  and  I  were  to  live — surrounded  by  live 
stock — as  confirmed  bachelors.  We  had  dogs  galore 
(with  one  Charlie  Heritage  as  kennelman),  cats, 
rabbits,  a  surly  and  savage  badger,  geese,  turkeys, 
poultry  of  various  breeds,  and  small  deer  in  the  shape 
of  aviary  pets,  guinea  pigs,  white  rats,  and  tortoises. 

But  even  with  this  miniature  farmyard  and 
zoo  combined  we  were  restless.  We  had  entered 
into  possession  in  the  merry  month  of  May.  The 
call  of  springtide  stirred  our  blood  and  turned  our 
fancies  (by  no  means  "  lightly  ")  be  it  said,  to  thoughts 


14  CHASING  AND   RACING 

of  love.  Local  beauty  offered  no  opportunity  for  the 
chase.  We  were  constantly  driving  up  to  town  in 
our  dogcart,  with  its  smart  trotter,  Phoebe,  in  search 
of  adventure,  to  the  great  neglect  of  our  menagerie. 

At  odd  times,  however,  we  did  indulge  in  desultory 
hacking  in  Richmond  Park,  on  hired  gees.  It  was 
inevitable  that  we  should  do  a  bit  of  private  racing 
on  the  inviting  stretches,  with  the  result  that,  on  one 
memorable  occasion,  my  mount  "  ran  out,"  and  took 
me  unwillingly  through  a  clump  of  trees,  where,  had  I 
not  ducked  in  the  nick  of  time,  a  low-growing  branch 
would  have  assuredly  deprived  me  of  my  "napper," 
and  there  would  have  been  an  end  of  all  my  **  reminis- 
cences.'* By  what  close  margins  does  Kismet  keep 
on  its  implacable  course  I 

It  was  whilst  residing  at  Cambridge  House, 
Twickenham,  that  I  had  my  first  experience  of  a 
real  live  race-meeting.  This  was  the  Epsom  First 
Spring,  to  which  Ted  and  I  hacked  over  on  the  day 
when  Bend  Or  triumphed  in  the  City  and  Suburban 
of  1 88 1.  He  beat  Foxhall  cleverly,  conceding  a 
lump  of  weight.  When  the  latter's  extraordinary 
performances  in  the  Cesarewitch  and  Cambridgeshire  * 
in  the  following  autumn  are  considered,  it  will  be 
realized  what  a  smasher  was  the  chestnut  son  of 
Doncaster.  He  needed  to  be  that,  the  previous  year, 
when  on  the  same  classic  downs  he  just,  but  only  just, 

*  Foxhall  carried  7  stone  6  lbs.  in  the  Cesarewitch  and  9  stone 
in  the  Cambridgeshire. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  15 

succeeded  in  putting  paid  to  the  high  pretensions  of 
Robert  the  Devil  in  the  Derby  of  1880.  Some  say- 
that  inferior  jockeyship  was  alone  responsible  for  the 
defeat  of  the  latter,  and  prophesied  that  when  the  Leger 
came  round,  Messrs.  Brewer's  champion  would  have 
an  ample  revenge.  This  forecast,  as  history  relates, 
was  borne  out  to  the  letter  :  but  personally,  I  have 
always  believed  that  at  Doncaster,  the  Boy  in  Yellow 
was  a  bit  off  colour  ;  whilst  Robert  was  top  notch,  as 
he  proved  when  he  added  the  Cesarewitch  to  his 
laurels.* 

All  this,  by  the  way  ! 

Ted  and  I  had  backed  the  Duke  of  Westminster*s 
champion  all  right  enough,  but  no  material  gain  came 
our  way.  We  had  remained  on  the  far  side  of  the 
course  in  a  small  enclosure  near  the  winning  post,  and 
had  selected  one.  Cox,  as  a  likely  penciller,  probably 
because  he  shared  my  patronymic  ;  but  when  it 
came  to  claiming  winnings,  his  too  solid  flesh  had 
melted.  In  vulgar  parlance,  he  had  "  done  a  guy."  So 
we  jogged  back  to  our  celibate  abode  certainly  sadder, 
if  not  wiser,  lads. 

It  was  during  our  sojourn  in  Twickenham  that  I 
suffered  a  loss  which  caused  me  dire  distress.  I  have 
been,  from  my  earliest  days,  more  of  a  "  cynophilist,'* 
than  an  "  hippophilist."  Though  forming  attachments 
to  various  units  of  the  equine  race,  I  generally  regarded 

*  After  winning  the  St.  Leger,  Robert  the  Devil  was  successful 
in  the  Cesarewitch,  carrying  8  stone  6  lbs. 


1 6  CHASING   AND   RACING 

them  as  a  means  to  an  end  ;  whereas  my  own  particular 
canine  pals  claimed  a  place  even  nearer  to  my  heart 
than  some  of  the  indispensable  females  of  the  human 
race,  who  from  time  to  time,  claimed  my  temporary 
allegiance.  Of  all  my  familiars  none  has  been  dearer 
than  a  certain  fox-terrier  registered  as  Coxswain, 
but  known  to  me  and  my  friends  as  Cockie.  It 
was  from  this  little  chap  that  I  derived  my  own 
sobriquet.  A  fair  friend  had  declared  that  I  and  my 
canine  attendant  were  strangely  alike,  not  only  in 
appearance,  but  also  as  regards  temperament,  and 
that,  therefore,  it  behoved  all  and  sundry  to  address 
us  by  the  same  name.  As  my  terrier  was  a  particu- 
larly handsome  specimen  of  his  breed  I  raised  no  objec- 
tion on  the  grounds  of  personal  appearance  ;  but 
when  it  came  to  a  question  of  character,  I  was  inclined 
to  demur,  for  my  tyke  was  a  rascal  of  the  deepest 
dye,  and  possessed  of  a  cayenne  pepper  temper  which 
brooked  no  interference  by  any  one  except  his  master. 
He  was  absolutely  fearless  of  God,  man,  devil,  or  the 
creatures  of  the  wild,  including  the  harmless,  necessary 
cat,  against  which  he  waged  eternal  warfare.  Here 
was  a  striking  example  of  hereditary  temperament 
for  his  sire,  Mr.  Skinner's  "  General,"  was  a  holy 
terror  and  when  visited  by  the  opposite  sex,  for  the 
purposes  of  eugenic  propagation,  it  was  always  a  toss- 
up  whether  he  would  proceed  to  amorous  gymnastics, 
or  would  elect  to  tear  the  windpipe  out  of  his  would-be 
inamorata.       Cockie's     dam     was     the     darling     of 


CHASING  AND   RACING  17 

Ted*s  heart — Stella,  by  name,  sprung  directly 
from  the  primitive  Nottingham  strain,  being  by  Old 
Sam,  ex  Cottingham  Nettle. 

My  favourite  had  the  run  of  the  premises  and  was 
the  terror  of  all  interlopers.  I  had  taught  him  to  be  a 
dog  of  all  works.  He  was  as  keen  as  mustard  on  fur 
and  feather,  and  did  duty  for  spaniel,  pointer  or  re- 
triever ;  though  as  regards  the  last-named  industry, 
I  always  had  to  race  to  the  kill  ;  for  Cockie  was 
decidedly  of  iron  jaw,  and  would  reduce  a  partridge 
to  a  melange  of  blood  and  plumage  in  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time. 

The  sad  day  arrived  when,  returning  from  a 
cutting-out  expedition  to  the  Metropolis,  there  was 
no  little  pal  to  greet  me  with  his  usual  demonstrations 
of  joy.  Cockie  had  disappeared,  utterly  and  irretriev- 
ably. Rewards  of  ;^5,  ;^io,  and  finally  iji^^  elicited 
no  response.  I  put  a  detective  on  the  track  of  possible 
dog-stealers.  He  followed  what  he  deemed  to  be  a 
slender  clue  into  the  purlieus  of  the  East,  where  he 
was  so  heavily  drugged  that  he  died  within  a  week. 
Thus  tragedy  trod  on  the  track  of  tragedy. 

Cockie  had  passed  ;  but  his  name  survived  ; 
for  as  "  Cockie  '*  I  have  ever  since  been  known 
to  my  intimates  and  to  the  sporting  public  in 
general. 

Strange  to  relate,  friend  Ted  had  suffered  the  loss 
of  Cockie's  dam,  under  similar  circumstances.  He 
and  I  were  strolling  in  the  grounds  of  my  old  home, 

c 


1 8  CHASING  AND   RACING 

Moat  Mount,  accompanied  by  the  little  old  bitch. 
Presently  she  was  missing.  From  that  day  to  this 
her  fate  and  what  led  to  it  has  been  a  complete  mystery. 
Truly  coincidence  has  a  long  arm. 

As  the  days  passed  we  two  inseparable  young 
bachelors  became  more  and  more  fed  up  with  our 
menage  and  our  polyglot  menagerie.  Our  visits  to 
town  became  of  daily  occurrence.  Both  of  us  had 
leanings  to  the  sock  and  buskin;  in  my  case  another 
example  of  direct  heredity,  for  The  Dads  was  one 
of  the  best  amateur  actors,  reciters,  and  readers  whom 
I  ever  remember  to  have  seen  or  heard.  So  we  joined 
the  Philothespian  Dramatic  Club.  Whilst  fretting 
our  hour  before  the  footlights  we  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  two  fascinating  sisters,  with  the  result  that 
we  soon  found  ourselves  "  engaged."  One  fine  day 
in  October,  1881,  our  father-in-law  elect  was  seen 
proudly  descending  the  aisle  of  St.  James's,  Piccadilly, 
with  a  radiant  daughter  on  each  arm.  Ted,  having 
doped  himself  with  libations  of  champagne  to  calm 
his  nerves,  was  in  peril  of  selecting  my  bride,  instead 
of  his  own  liege  lady  ;  but  the  latter  promptly  put 
him  right  and  all  went  well. 

To  start  domestic  life  in  earnest  I  secured  a 
maisonette  in  S.  Audley  Street,  and  by  way  of  diversion, 
joined  Hurlingham,  the  Gun  and  (later)  the  Ranelagh 
clubs,  with  a  view  to  exploiting  my  skill  as  a  pigeon- 
shot.  It  was  at  the  first-named  fashionable  resort  that 
my  attention   was   drawn   to   the   pony   races   which 


CHASING   AND   RACING  19 

periodically  took  place.     My  imagination  was  fired, 
and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  butt  in.     At  TattersalFs 
I  picked  up  a  likely  looking  brown  pony  called  Phyllis, 
about  fourteen  hands.     After  giving  her  a  few  surrepti- 
tious gallops  in  the  early  hours,  on  the  Rotten  Row  tan, 
where  a   friendly  minion   of  the  law  had   discreetly 
looked  the  other  way,  I  entered  her  for  a  members' 
race  at  Hurlingham  and  ordered  my  colours — cream, 
dark  blue  and  gold    hooped    sleeves,  quartered  cap. 
The  great  day  arrived,  and  as  I  weighed  out  I  had  a 
sharp  experience  of  that  distressing  sensation,  "  the 
needle.'*     There  were  seven  runners  on  the  cramped 
course,    and    in    my    anxiety    to     be    well     away    I 
slightly  broke  the  line.     "  Go  back  a   bit.  Cox  '* — 
this   from  the  starter.       Of  course  he  meant   '''pull 
hack  "  ;    but  in  my  "  greenness  "  I  turned  my  mount 
"  about,"  and  as  the   flag  fell  I  was  left  some  two 
lengths  and  there  remained  ;    but  Phyllis  and  I  nego- 
tiated the  sharp  turns  quite  comfortably  and  I  kept 
my  seat  all  right.     On  a  subsequent  occasion  I  was 
off  the  mark  promptly  and  was  well  placed  to  win  if 
my  mount  had  been  good  enough  ;   but  she  was  not  1 
Although   I  won  some  nice  races  with  her  at  local 
meetings  later  on,  her  form  was  not  up  to  the  Hur- 
lingham standard.     Something  a  deal  smarter  had  to 
be  found.     It  was  at  this  juncture  that  I  came  in 
contact  with  Jesse  Winfield.     I  believe  he  was  looked 
upon  as  very  hot  stuff"  indeed  ;    but  all  I  can  say  is 
that  he  played  the  game  in  a  perfectly  straightforward 


20  CHASING   AND   RACING 

manner  with  me.     He  found  me  some  exceedingly 
smart  material  and  trained  it  to  perfection  ;  so  that  I 
had  a  real   good  innings  and  showed  a  remarkable 
riding    average    for    several    successive    years.     The 
best  record,  twenty-one  mounts,  thirteen  firsts,  three 
seconds,  two  thirds,  and  only  three  unplaced  1     My 
initial  bargain  with  Jesse   resulted   in   the  purchase, 
at  a   quite  reasonable   figure,  of  the  peerless  Catona 
a  b.f.  4  yrs.  by  Soapstone  (son  of  the  great  Touch- 
stone)— Calm,   by  Orest,   by  West  Australian.     She 
went  easily  under  the  14.2  galloway  standard,  and  was 
a   bloodlike,   varminty  sort,   with   beautiful   manners. 
The  first  time  I   rode  her  at  exercise  she  was  bitted 
with  a  double  ring  snaffle,  but  she  yawed  and  stretched 
at   it,    pulling   harder   than   was   comfortable.     Jesse 
suggested  that  as  I  had  "  hands  **  it  would  be  as  well 
to    try    a    **  Hanoverian."     Sure    enough    the    little 
lady  took  kindly  enough  to  the  formidable  restrainer. 
Her   dthut  was   at    Ranelagh,   and   here   I    practised 
tactics  which  I  have  since  found  most  effective,  not 
only  in  pony  racing,  but  later  on  when  engaged  in 
the  **  legitimate  "  line.     I  jumped  off  smartly,  and  made 
the  running  until  my  mount  was  going  evenly  in  her 
stride.     Then  I  gradually  held  her  back  until  she  lay 
about   fourth  ;    but  without  losing  place  on  the  rails. 
Approaching  the  final  bend   I  let  her   go  up  to  the 
leaders,  and  in  the  straight,  came  away  to  win  easily 
by  a  couple  of  lengths.     My  first  win  and  a  delightful 
ride.     A  thing  not  easily  to  be  forgotten.     While  I 


CHASING  AND   RACING  21 

am  about  it  I  may  as  well  run  over  the  remarkable 
career  of  this  champion  "  pony."  At  Ranelagh  and 
Hurlingham  she  became  an  institution — a  sort  of 
fashionable  idol.  She  was  as  good  over  the  sticks 
and  between  flags  as  she  was  on  the  flat.  In  "jump  " 
races  I  confided  her  handling  to  my  friend  Harry 
Bentley,  a  most  accomplished  horseman,  a  crack  shot, 
and  withal  a  man  of  brains  and  literary  accomplish- 
ments. He  won  on  her  at  every  time  of  asking. 
On  one  occasion  this  slip  of  a  thoroughbred  carried 
no  less  than  fourteen  stone  ten  pounds  over  the 
miniature  Ranelagh  Steeplechase  Course  (two  miles) 
and  won  in  a  canter. 

After  having  ridden  her  myself  to  victory  eleven 
times  without  ever  having  to  ask  her  to  pull  out 
anything  extra  in  order  to  slam  her  fields,  she  at 
length  broke  down.  Winfield  spared  no  pains  to 
restore  her  once  more  to  racing  trim,  and  at  last 
imagined  that  she  was  sound  again.  She  was  saddled 
at  Ranelagh,  and  at  one  time  it  looked  as  if  the 
monotony  of  her  triumphs  was  to  be  maintained  ; 
but  when  entering  the  straight,  and  making  her  usual 
effortless  but  remorseless  run,  she  suddenly  faltered 
and  nearly  fell.  She  hobbled  in,  a  hopeless  cripple 
and  never  ran  again.  Meanwhile  I  had  exploited 
her  in  the  provinces  far  and  wide,  and  everywhere 
successfully. 

One  day  Jesse  came  to  me  wearing  a  mysterious 
expression.     "  Squire,"  he  said,  "  isn't  it  time  we  got 


22  CHASING  AND   RACING 

some  good  dough  out  of  Catona.  Running  her  with 
4-1  laid  on  her,  cuts  no  ice  and  don't  pay  for  her  keep.'* 
*'  There  is  an  open  race  at  Cork  with  fjioo  added 
money,  worth  goin'  for,  eh  ?  and  perhaps,  a  S.P. 
job,  that  will  figure  out  at  100-8.     What  about  it  .'^  " 

"  It's  a  long  way  to  go,"  I  ventured  ;  "  though  as 
you  say,  ;/^2oo  of  the  best  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at. 
But  as  for  getting  100-8  or  any  sort  of  reasonable  odds 
S.P.  I  take  leave  to  disbelieve  you  altogether.  Why 
her  fame  is  as  well-known  in  Paddyland  as  it  is  here  !  " 

"  Ah,  that's  where  the  laugh  comes  in.  She  can 
be  entered  in  any  name  and  so  disguised  that  even 
you  would  not  recognize  her." 

**  Jesse,"  I  exclaimed  with  frigidity,  *'  you  ought 
to  know  me  by  now.  What  reason  have  I  ever  given 
you  to  suppose  that  I  would  indulge  in  any  sort  of 
crooked  work  }  " 

"  You  misunderstand  me,  Squire,  there  is  nothing 
crooked  in  this  deal.  The  race  is  open  to  all  ponies 
and  galloways  under  14.2  There  is  no  question  of 
registration,  declaration,  or  ownership.  Any  name 
can  be  selected,  and  the  handicapping  is  on  the  weight 
for  inches  principle.  In  Ireland  they  change  the 
names  of  their  ponies  every  time  they  run." 

"  Well,  as  long  as  we  do  not  contravene  such  rules 
as  may  exist,  I  don't  mind  having  a  dart.  Get  a 
move  on  1  " 

In  due  time  the  entries  for  The  Great  Shamrock 
Pony  Race  at  Cork  appeared — a  formidable  list    of 


CHASING   AND   RACING  23 

"  Paddies,"  "  Leprechauns,"  "  Fenians,"  ''  Dan' 
O'Connells,"  "St.  Patricks,"  "  Mollies,"  "  Norahs," 
and  "  Colleens." 

Amongst  them  **  Mr.  Gilhooly's  Fly  "  (none  other 
than  the  great  Catona,  if  you  please). 

Passing  over  preliminaries,  let  us  look  at  Fly 
in  the  paddock.  Ye  gods,  was  there  ever  such  a 
transformation  ?  It  seemed  incredible  that  the  mean, 
broken-coated  screw,  looking  as  if  she  had  been  dragged 
backward  by  the  tail  through  a  horsepond,  was  in 
fact  my  bonnie  brown  Catona.  Yet  here  she  was 
in  the  flesh,  with  a  dirty  sack  thrown  over  her,  by  way 
of  a  loin  cloth.  And  the  *'  colours  "  which  Jesse  had 
provided  !  A  dirty  white  flannel  jacket,  and  an 
equally  disreputable  slate  grey  cap.  There  were 
twenty-two  runners  of  all  shapes  and  sizes  ;  with 
alleged  jockeys  of  doubtful  standing.  Not  one  of 
whom  had  the  remotest  intention  of  observing  the 
laws  of  racing,  written  or  implied.  There  was  to 
be  no  pulling  back  and  waiting  to  come  with  one 
run  this  time.  Success  depended  on  a  flying  start 
and  going  hell  for  leather,  from  pillar  to  post.  But 
it  came  off  all  right,  and  "  Fly  "  won  easily  enough. 

Jesse  and  Ted  between  them  had  been  hard  at 
it  trying  to  work  a  S.P.  commission  all  over  the 
United  Kingdom,  but  it  was  no  easy  job,  I  can  assure 
you. 

Elated  at  the  result,  we  eagerly  awaited  the  price. 
We  had  not  a  bet  in  the  local  ring,  but  as  we  heard 


24  CHASING   AND   RACING 

'undred    ter    wan  !  "  others "    shouted,    persistently, 
we  had  beatific  visions  of  colossal  gains. 

Next  morning  The  Sportsman  reported  the  race  and 
gave  the  S.P.  return  as  evens^  Fly  ;  lo-i.  Murphy, 
Leprechaun,  Kathleen  Mavourneen  ;  100-8,  St.  Pat- 
rick, Shillelagh  ;    20-1,  others. 

Evens,  Fly  !  The  gaff  had  been  blown  and  our 
S.P.  commissions,  which  amounted  in  all  to  £6^  only, 
had  come  across  the  Irish  Channel,  and  made  our 
transmogrified  champion  a  raging  favourite.  You 
should  have  seen  Jesse's  face,  it  was  a  study  in  dis- 
gruntlement  ! 

Well,  it  served  me  right  !  We  had  contravened 
no  rules  ;  but  the  whole  transaction  was  an  unsavoury 
one  and  an  insult  to  the  reputation  and  prowess  of 
Catona.  Anyway,  it  taught  me  a  lesson  and  recalled 
the  good  old  adage  which  recites  that  one  cannot  touch 
pitch  without  being  defiled. 

In  those  days  there  was  a  superfluity  of  "  rough 
stuff"  handed  out  to  such  as  went  to  the  starting-post 
on  "  ponies."  Some  of  the  "  courses  "  on  which  we 
disported  ourselves  were  of  a  very  cramped  and 
circumscribed  character.  The  turns  were  so  acute 
that  one  had  to  swing  around  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees  or  less,  and  the  turf  over  which  we  galloped 
was  often  of  the  roughest  and  most  holey  description  ; 
consequently  accidents  were  of  frequent  occurrence 
(though  only  on  one  occasion,  did  I  witness  a 
fatal   issue).      At  any  rate  we  had  to  learn  how  to 


CHASING  AND   RACING  25 

handle  a  rampaging  little  **  blood  'un/'  called  by 
courtesy  a  **  pony  '*  under  all  sorts  of  trying  con- 
ditions. 

Another  miscalculation  of  chances  from  a  financial 
point  of  view  befell  me  when  I  took  Catona  to  compete 
for  a  special  ;^ioo  cup  at  Aylesbury. 

I  knew  that  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  back 
her  ;  so  bethought  me  of  another  scheme  by  which 
I  could  inflate  my  banking  account. 

Among  the  most  enthusiastic  followers  of  my 
hounds  (the  O.B.H.)  was  George  Gurney,  a  well- 
known,  and  greatly  respected  operator  in  the  Silver 
Ring.  A  true  sportsman  and  one  of  Nature's 
Gentlemen. 

I  knew  that  he  intended  business  at  the  meeting 
in  question  ;  so  after  kennelling  my  hounds  one  after- 
noon I  called  upon  him  at  his  home  on  Croxley 
Green.  He  opened  fire  with  :  "  Well,  Squire,  I 
suppose  you  will  win  that  Aylesbury  affair  on  your 
little  mare  won't  you  ?  " 

Probably — bar  accidents." 
Are  you  going  to  back  her  ?  '* 
No  chance,  George,  unless  the  opposition  is 
much  stronger  than  it  appears.  Look  here,  what  if 
I  stand  in  with  you  and  Catona  runs  for  the  book  ? 
I  should  imagine  that  some  of  the  other  owners  and 
the  public  will  support  the  field." 

*'  Right  you  are,  Guv'nor  ;  but  I  have  my  doubts. 
They  will  all  want  to  have  a  bit  for  askin'  on  yours  !  " 


i( 


n 


<( 


26  CHASING  AND   RACING 

There  were,  if  I  remember  rightly,  some  fifteen 
starters  for  the  race,  and  just  as  I  had  weighed  out, 
Jack  Westrup,  runner  to  my  hounds,  came  up  and 
**  bit  my  ear  "  as  the  saying  goes. 

*'  Sir,"  he  whispered,  **  Fve  just  overheard  Mr. 

and  Mr.  — —  (naming  two  prominent  riders)  plotting 
to  put  you  over  the  rails  ;  so  Fve  hurried  over  to  give 
you  a  word  of  warning." 

This  was  cheery  news  indeed.  I  could  rely  on 
Jack.  Originally  he  had  been  butler  to  the  great 
and  popular  **  Dizzy "  at  Hughenden.  He  had 
attached  himself  to  me  when  I  had  instituted  the  Mis- 
senden  Harriers  and  taken  over  the  Hambleden  Vale 
pack.  What  he  did  not  know  about  the  wiles  and 
habits  of  the  timid  hare  was  not  worth  knowing  and 
he  could  always  spot  the  quarry  in  her  form,  and  whistle 
us  for  the  find.  Later  on,  when  I  substituted  the 
canary  of  the  O.B.E.  for  the  green  of  the  "  Jelly  dogs," 
Jack  proved  of  inestimable  service  as  **  runner." 

And  now  how  to  outwit  the  scoundrels  who 
deliberately  intended  to  risk  murder  or  mutilation  in 
pursuit  of  their  petty  profits  ? 

I  am  not  sure  about  the  starter  ;  but  I  think  it 
was  Harry  Custance.  It  was  a  circular  course,  one 
and  a  half  times  round  for  the  mile  (the  distance 
prescribed).  I  had  drawn  the  inside,  and  perceived 
that  the  plotters  were  on  my  whip  hand.  As  soon 
as  we  had  lined  up,  I  touched  Catona  with  the  spur. 
This    unaccustomed    administration    caused    her    to 


CHASING  AND   RACING  27 

jump  forward  nervously.  **  Look  out,"  I  cried, 
**  this  mare  will  kick  you  into  the  middle  of  next 
week  if  you  crowd  on  her  1  " 

"  Here,  come  over  on  the  outside,  Captain  Cox," 
called  the  starter.     I  lost  no  time  in  obeying  the  order. 

"  If  there  is  a  false  start,"  I  told  him,  ''  this  mare 
will  get  away  with  me." 

**A11  right,  I'll  see  to  that.  Now!  Are  you 
ready  ?   Then — Go  !  " 

Catona  was  on  her  toes  and  off  like  a  swallow, 
I  made  a  bee  line  for  the  first  turn,  got  there  with  a 
lead  of  a  good  two  lengths,  and  stayed  to  win  by  just 
as  far  as  I  chose.  In  the  dressing-room,  after  weighing 
in,  I  determined  to  let  one,  at  least,  of  the  conspirators 
know  that  I  was  cognisant  of  their  amiable  intentions. 

"  What  about  putting  me  over  the  rails  ? ''  I 
asked. 

"  Nothin'  doin'  old  Sport  !  My  tit  couldn't  go 
fast  enough  to  bite  your  mare's  tail,  much  less  give 
me  a  chance  to  barge  in  on  her  flank." 

Then  I  went  to  George  Gurney  to  see  how  our 
book  had  planned  out.     He  showed  me. 

Some  venturesome  gambler  had  taken  5-1  in 
half-crowns  about  a  pony  called  *'  Royal  Oak  '* 
numbered  amongst  the  "  also  ran." 

The  rest  of  the  column  was  i?/a^k  ! 

Thus  do  : 

"  The  best  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men 
Gang  aft  agley  I  " 


CHAPTER   III 

AVE  I  ever  been  "  invited  to  explain,  etc  '*  ? 
Why,  yes  !  On  three  occasions  !  Each 
time  I  emerged  triumphant  and  left  the 
*'  Court  of  Enquiry  "  without  a  stain  on 
my  character.  This,  be  it  said,  in  connection  with 
"  the  ponies  "  only.  Perhaps  I  may  be  permitted 
to  add  that,  as  regards  racing  under  Jockey  Club  and 
National  Hunt  Rules,  never  once  was  a  complaint 
made  against  me  ;  nor  was  any  winner  I  rode  ever 
objected  to.  As  a  member  of  Hurlingham  and 
Ranelagh,  when  riding  ponies  at  these  fashionable 
clubs,  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  I  was  far  above 
any  sort  of  suspicion  ;  but  in  "  the  provinces  '*  it  was 
different.  Undoubtedly  a  lot  of  questionable,  not 
to  say  crooked,  tricks  were  resorted  to  by  those  who 
considered  themselves  hyper-smart,  and  who,  glorying 
in  their  misdeeds,  thought  that  all  others,  including 
myself,  were  tarred  with  the  same  brush.  It  was, 
in  fact,  as  a  general  rule,  a  case  of  each  for  himself 
and  the  devil  take  the  hindermost.  The  three  follow- 
ing examples  will  show  with  what  unworthy  suspicion 
the  straightest  of  sportsmen  and  gentlemen  are  often 

regarded   by  those  who  have  no  claim  to  either  title, 

28 


CHASING  AND    RACING  29 

but  who  are  constantly  looking  for  crookedness  where 
none  exists. 

Shortly  after  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  become 
the  owner  of  Catona,  Jesse  Winfield  procured  for  me 
a  useful  filly  called  Etna.  This  one  was  not  up  sides 
with  the  champion,  who  was  in  a  class  by  herself  ; 
but  she  was  decidedly  useful  and  would  always  give 
a  good  account  of  herself  when  opposed  to  any  but 
the  top-notch  flyers  at  the  game.  Now  Catona  and 
Etna  were  extraordinarily  like  one  another.  Each 
measured  exactly  14.2  and  were  of  the  same  build  and 
type.  The  latter  was  slightly  brighter  in  coat  and 
had  a  small  snip  of  white  on  the  forehead  which 
Catona  lacked  ;  but  seeing  them  at  exercise  together 
it  was  difficult  to  tell  t'other  from  which. 

A  rather  attractive  programme  had  been  issued 
for  a  meeting  at  Pontypool.  The  principal  event 
offered  a  good  chance  for  Catona  to  add  to  her  collection 
of  laurels,  whilst  there  was  a  race  for  galloways  that 
had  not  won  more  than  a  stipulated  aggregate  o£  £  s,  d, 
and  for  which  Etna  was  eligible.  So  we  determined 
to  exploit  both  mares.  The  two  races  were  on 
succeeding  days,  and  after  Catona  had  astonished  the 
natives  in  her  usual  effortless  manner,  she  was  sent 
home.  The  next  day  Etna  duly  obliged,  and  we 
returned  home  puffed  up  with  pride,  joy,  and  satis- 
faction. 

But  what  was  my  astonishment  when,  a  few  days 
later,  I  received  an  intimation  from  the  Clerk  of  the 


30  CHASING  AND   RACING 

Course  that  stakes  would  be  withheld  since  I  had  had 
the  effrontery  to  run  Catona,  on  the  second  day,  under 
a  different  name,  in  a  race  for  which  she  was  not 
eligible  to  compete  !  Of  course  I  was  greatly  tickled 
by  this  *'  howler,"  but  there  was  no  end  of  a  pother 
before  I  could  clear  up  the  stupid  blunder  ;  in  fact 
we  had  to  produce  both  mares  and  evidence  of  Catona's 
return  to  stables  on  the  evening  of  the  first  day,  ere 
the  Stewards  caved  in,  apologized,  and  paid  stakes, 
plus  my  "  expenses  '*  ! 

The  next  item  was  staged  at  Portsmouth  where 
a  so-called  "  big  "  event  with  ;/^ioo  added  had  been 
advertised.  I  was  very  anxious  to  have  a  cut  in  at 
this,  but  alas — Catona  had  retired  from  the  race- 
course and  my  others  were  hardly  good  enough.  So 
once  more  Jesse  had  instructions  to  find  "  the  goods." 
He  was  not  long  in  doing  so,  and  reported  that  he  had 
secured  a  miniature  racehorse  which  had  sported 
Captain  Machell's  colours  under  Jockey  Club  rules, 
named  Kismet,  by  the  Derby  winner,  Kisber — 
Angelina  by  Hermit.  He  was  a  perfect  picture, 
but  a  hot-headed  little  devil  and  a  determined  and 
hard-mouthed  puller.  I  had  no  opportunity  of  riding 
him  at  exercise  and  so  getting  on  pleasant  terms  with 
him  ;  consequently,  at  the  urgent  prayers  of  Winfield 
and  other  stable  connections,  I  turned  the  mount  over 
to  Tommy  Aldridge,  a  very  efficient  understudy. 
It  was  a  big  field,  but  Tommy  soon  had  its  measure 
and  won  cleverly  by  a  length.     Now,  not  long  prior 


CHASING  AND   RACING  31 

to  this  meeting,  **  The  National  Pony  and  Galloway 
Club  "  had  been  formed  with  Captain  **  Freddy  '' 
Herbert  as  Secretary,  whilst  I  was  elected  a  Steward. 
The  aim  of  the  Association  was  to  make  pony  racing 
a  game  for  gentlemen  to  play  at,  wherever,  and  under 
whatever  conditions,  a  meeting  might  be  held.  The 
rules  were  drafted  on  the  model  of  those  of  the  Jockey 
Club  and  the  National  Hunt,  and  it  was  thought  that 
a  clean  sweep  would  be  made  of  the  rascality  and 
double  crossing  which  had  hitherto  thrown  discredit 
on  the  sport,  and  that  many  young  officers  and  others, 
who  could  not  afford  to  go  in  for  "  legitimate  "  race 
riding,  would  be  eager  to  avail  themselves  of  this 
sport,  which  at  any  rate  offered  a  valuable  apprentice- 
ship to  more  serious  endeavours  on  the  turf.  Again 
I  suffered  the  indignity  of  being  accused  of  fraudulent 
entry  ;  for  an  objection  to  The  Usher  (as  I  had 
renamed  Kismet)  was  lodged  on  the  ground  that  the 
winner  was  not  my  property.  I  appeared  before  my 
fellow  stewards  and  stated  how  the  galloway  had 
been  procured  for  me  by  Jesse  Winfield.  I  was 
asked  to  produce  the  counterfoil  of  the  cheque  handed 
to  my  trainer  in  payment  and  his  receipt  for  the  same. 
This  I  could  not  do  for  the  simple  reason  that  I  had 
a  running  account  with  Winfield  and  never  paid  him 
cash  down  for  any  several  item.  Luckily  Jesse  was 
handy  with  this  account,  showing,  on  the  debit  side, 
the  date  and  the  exact  figure  paid  by  him  for  the 
purchase  of  Kismet  on  my  account.     So  that  was  that  ! 


32  CHASING  AND   RACING 

The  third  act  was  again  laid  at  Portsmouth,  and 
again    The    Usher,  directly  and   indirectly,  involved 
me  in  trouble.     He  was  top  weight  in  a  handicap, 
which  was  the  principal  event  of  the  day  ;   but  by  this 
time    I  was  training   my  own    bloodstock  with   Ted 
Jaquet  as  manager  and  one.  Bill  Davies,  a  hot-headed 
Welshman    as    head    lad.     The    Usher   was    on    his 
worst  behaviour,  and  kept  breaking  away  until   my 
arms  and  wrists  were  numbed.     At  last  we  were  off, 
but  his  weight  and  the  capers  the  little  brute  had  been 
cutting  at  the  post  had  taken  as  much  steel  out  of  him 
as  they  had  out  of  his  rider  ;  consequently,  by  the  time 
we  had  covered  five  furlongs  (it  was  a  mile  race)  he 
was  stone  cold,  and  finally  was  cantering  in  with  the 
crowd,  when  an  inebriated  marine  gave  him  a  cut  on 
the  quarters  with  his  cane  ;    whereupon  The  Usher, 
having  recovered  his  wind,   caught  hold  of  his   bit 
and  bolted  for  the  paddock.     I  was  quite  powerless 
to    hold    him  !     Three    times    he    raced    round    the 
enclosure  and  then  dashed  on    to  the  lawn,  in  front 
of    the   grand   stand.     On    reaching   the   iron    rails 
dividing  the  lawn  from  the  course,  he  stuck  his  toes 
in  suddenly,  and  I  was  deposited  on  the  top  of  bookie 
Treherne,  conspicuous  by  his  luxuriant  face  fungus, 
otherwise   beard.     The   worthy   penciller   broke   my 
fall   without   suffering  much   damage,   so   I   escaped 
unscathed,  but  a  bit  shaken. 

I  had  entered  in  the  last  race  of  the  day,  a  roan 
three-year-old  colt  named   Epsom   Embrocation,    his 


CHASING  AND   RACING  33 

sponsor  being  the  worthy  Jesse — whose  marvellous 
embrocation  it  was  hoped  would  be  boomed  by  the 
exploits  of  the  animal  who,  like  The  Usher,  had 
been  **  a  regular "  under  the  name  of  The  Stick. 
Incidentally  I  may  mention  that  he  was  the  laziest 
bit  of  horseflesh  I  ever  rode.  Nothing  but  a  dog 
whip,  neatly  curled  around  his  loins,  would  rouse 
him  to  a  realization  of  his  responsibilities  ;  but  when 
he  knew  that  the  tawse  was  in  my  hands  he  performed 
great  deeds  of  valour,  for  he  could  stay  till  the  cows 
came  home,  and  had  a  nice  turn  of  speed  when  he  once 
made  up  his  mind  to  exploit  it.  He  went  to  sleep  the 
first  time  I  rode  him,  and  only  woke  up  in  time  to 
finish  a  length  behind  the  winner.  But  never  again  ; 
for,  without  exception,  after  a  dose  of  the  medicine  (not 
dope)  described,  he  managed  to  carry  me  to  victory  on 
every  subsequent  occasion  that  I  rode  him. 

It  was  this  joker  that  was  entered  in  the  last  race 
on  the  card.  I  had  every  intention  of  riding  him  myself, 
but  I  was  rather  shaken  by  my  Usher  adventure  ; 
moreover,  I  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  town,  so  I 
requisitioned  the  ever-ready  Tommy  Aldridge  to 
don  my  colours  and  weigh  out.  I  watched  the  race 
from  the  station  approach  and  had  the  not  unmixed 
satisfaction  of  seeing  Tommy  land  the  phlegmatic 
Embrocation  an  easy  winner.  Naturally  I  regretted 
having  missed  a  "  cushy  '*  winning  mount  ! 

An  objection  came  along.  The  grounds  thereof 
were  that  Aldridge,  being  a  professional  jockey,  was 


34  CHASING  AND   RACING 

not  entitled  to  ride,  as  the  conditions  stated  that  the 
race  was  for  gentlemen  riders  only.  Sure  enough  I 
had  made  a  fatal  error  this  time.  In  the  hurry  and 
confusion  I  had  overlooked  this  stipulation.  Of  course 
I  offered  no  opposition  to  my  galloway's  disqualifica- 
tion, simply  stating  the  facts  and  admitting  a  moderate 
measure  of  carelessness,  which,  under  the  circum- 
stances, I  suggested  might  be  excused.  Thus,  thought 
I,  the  matter  ends.  But  not  a  bit  of  it  !  Listen  to 
the  sequel  !  Such  an  eminently  respectable,  if  some- 
what dull,  paper  as  Land  and  Water  was  at  that  time, 
had  the  impudence  to  state  that  I  had  put  Aldridge 
up  knowing  that  my  colt  would  be  disqualified,  and 
that  I  had  backed  him  heavily  **  first  past  the  post  "  ! 

Naturally  such  an  outrageous  statement  called 
for  immediate  action,  and  a  writ  was  issued  against 
the  offending  paper. 

I  briefed  Sir  Robert  Findlay,  afterwards  Lord 
Chancellor  ;  whilst  Land  and  Water  was  represented 
by  my  friend  Sir  Charles  Russell  (who,  coincidentally, 
became  in  due  course  Lord  Chief  Justice  under  the 
title  of  Lord  Russell  of  Killowen).  Just  before  the 
case  was  called,  Sir  Charles  greeted  me,  and  we  began 
discussing  some  racing  matter  or  other.  All  of  a 
sudden  he  pulled  up,  exclaiming  :  "  Here,  I  say, 
Cox,  why,  you  are  the  plaintiff  in  this  libel  action 
and  I  am  for  the  defendants.  Go  away — go  away 
quickly  ! 

Well,  the  case  was  never  presented  to  the  jury. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  2S 

The  libellous  paper  offered  a  humble  apology  and 
undertook  to  publish  the  same,  and  to  pay  my  costs. 
They  got  off  cheaply  I  think  ! 

A  propos  this  question  of  professional  jockeys,  I 
regret  to  say  that  it  was  the  direct  cause  of  the  debacle 
of  the  N.P.  and  G.  Club.  During  my  absence  from 
town,  a  meeting  was  held  at  which  it  was  decided  that 
professional  jockeys  should  be  allowed  to  ride  at 
meetings  held  under  the  rules  of  the  club  ;  thus  at 
one  stroke  the  whole  aim  and  endeavour  of  the  original 
promoters  was  rendered  abortive.  Not  only  was  it 
obvious  that  an  undesirable  type  of  professional  would 
monopolize  the  weighing-room,  but  that  the  class  of 
young  aspirants  to  race-riding  fame  whom  we  hoped 
would  be  interested  in  and  support  the  sport,  would 
inevitably  be  choked  off.  And  so  it  proved  ;  for 
instead  of  pony  racing  being  lifted  to  something  like 
a  respectable  level,  it  became  more  and  more  decadent. 
The  N.  P.  and  G.  Club  ceased  to  exist,  and  there  seems 
no  likelihood  that  the  sport  will  ever  be  revived,  except 
in  irregular  and  sporadic  fashion.  If  on  the  three 
occasions  quoted  I  was  unjustly  suspected  of  crooked 
dealing,  I  can  recall  one  where  appearances  were  so 
black  that  had  a  complaint  been  lodged,  I  should  have 
had  but  a  lame  defence  ;  though,  needless  to  say,  I 
and  the  other  concerned  were  as  innocent  as  babes 
unborn.  As  in  after  days  on  the  legitimate  turf,  so 
in  pony  racing,  I  was  very  keen  on  matching  my  ponies 
against  others  belonging  to  friendly  rivals.     Among 


26  CHASING   AND   RACING 

the  latter  was  Harry  de  Windt,  the  distinguished 
traveller  and  author,  brother  to  the  White  Ranee 
Brooke  of  Sarawak.  At  one  time  de  Windt  owned 
a  mare  called  Umbrella,  who  would  have  been  a 
worthy  opponent  for  Catona  had  they  been  contem- 
porary, which  they  were  not.  I  have  mentioned  my 
first  pony,  Phyllis  ;  she  was  a  first  rate  trapper,  and 
could  gallop  above  a  bit.  Harry  had  a  similar  "  tit  " 
about  the  same  cut  and  height,  so  we  fixed  up  a  match 
for  a  **  pony  "  which  came  off  at  Gloucester,  where  a 
particularly  serpentine  course  had  been — I  was  going 
to  say,  prepared — but,  well,  the  preparation  was  of  a 
most  primitive  order.  Incidentally,  I  may  say  that, 
being  anxious  to  give  a  sporting  young  friend  a  winning 
mount,  I  actually  put  him  up  on  Catona  in  the  chief 
event,  with  the  result  that  the  mare  slipped  up  at  one 
of  the  **  impossible "  turns.  Luckily  neither  horse 
nor  rider  was  hurt,  though  the  latter,  like  John  Jones 
of  Covent  Garden,  *'  didn't  know  where  he  were  " 
for  quite  half  an  hour.  All  he  could  say  was  : 
**  Where's  the  luncheon  basket }  " 

But  about  this  match.  It  was  **  three  times  round 
the  frying  pan  and  once  up  the  handle  "  for  the  mile. 
We  negotiated  the  first  event  quite  serenely,  keeping 
close  together,  but  the  second  time  round,  Rosalie, 
as  de  Windt's  mount  was  named,  suddenly  "  ran  out," 
and  went  bird  nesting  in  an  adjacent  coppice  ;  so 
all  I  had  to  do  was  to  jog  along  at  my  own  sweet 
will  and  so  earn  easy  money. 


CHASING   AND    RACING  37 

Phyllis  was  as  handy  as  you  make  'em  ;  but  lo 
and  behold,  when  negotiating  the  final  round,  and 
whilst  I  was  complacently  regarding  my  boots,  out 
she  went  at  the  very  spot  where  Rosalie  had  "  done  a 
guy,^^  Harry,  meanwhile,  was  walking  his  recalci- 
trant little  jade  back  to  that  which  was  by  courtesy 
called  a  paddock  ;  but  seeing  what  had  befallen  me, 
came  back  at  a  hand  gallop,  and  slipped  round  the 
course  to  complete  the  mile.  I  soon  had  Phyllis 
back  and  in  pursuit,  but  never  could  get  within 
striking  distance  of  my  opponent.  Nobody  said 
anything,  but  they  looked  unutterable  things.  Well 
they  "  had  reason  "  as  our  French  friends  say  ;  for 
the  show  was  one  which  asked  for  criticism  of  a  not 
too  kindly  nature.  Anyway  I  lost  my  "  pony " 
(not  Phyllis,  bad  'cess  to  her),  and  was  lucky  not  to 
lose  my  reputation  as  a  dead  straight  rider  for  good 
and  all. 

On  one  occasion  I  was  riding  a  three-year- 
old  pony  of  my  own  breeding  which  had  not  been 
tried,  and  whose  back  I  had  never  previously  be- 
stridden. As  I  was  going  to  the  post,  a  bunch  of  the 
"  Boys,"  stood  in  my  way  and  I  had  to  pull  up.  I 
was  thus  addressed  by  their  spokesman  : 

"  Look  'ere.  Mister  blinkin'  'Ardin'  Cox,  the  Boys 
'ave  all  backed  yer,  and  if  yer  gets  up  ter  any  of  yer 
pullin'  gimes,  inter  'ver  'orse  pond  yer  goes,  and  don't 
yer  fergit  it  !  " 

Here  was  a  nice  look  out,  seeing  that  I  had  not 


38  CHASING  AND   RACING 

the  remotest  idea  as  to  whether  I  should  win  or  be 
down  the  course.  As  matters  turned  out  I  was  a  bad 
third.  Did  I  pull  up  on  passing  the  winning  post  ? 
Not  on  your  life  I  I  did  not  stop  until  I  was  safe 
inside  the  paddock,  and  when  I  left  its  precincts  it 
was  in  the  company  of  a  couple  of  promising  heavy- 
weights of  N.S.C.  fame  !  Nothing  doing  for  the 
"  Boys  "  ! 

I  have  already  explained  how  my  cousin  and 
brother-in-law,  Ted  Jaquet  played  Pythias  to  my 
Damon.  Whenever  I  set  to  work  making  a  sporting 
pie  (no  matter  what  the  ingredients),  the  lusty  Ted 
was  sure  to  have  a  finger  in  it  ;  therefore,  it  followed 
that  during  the  period  when  I  was  engaged  in  pony 
racing,  he  became  seized  or  possessed  of  two  gallant 
but  rather  dickey  animals  with  which  to  enrich  our 
string.  Futhermore,  it  now  was  necessary  for  him 
to  register  his  colours.  Black  jacket.  Gold  fleur  de  lys^ 
back  and  front.  Gold  cap.  A  very  chaste  and  striking 
design  !  which  I  was  quite  proud  to  don  on  the  bigger 
of  my  pal's  crocks,  Winkelman,  to  wit,  a  hard- 
bitten old  fiddle-headed  brown,  whom  long  and  painful 
experience  had  taught  all  there  was  to  know  about 
the  game  to  which  he  was  allocated.  His  under- 
standings and  joints  were  more  or  less  callous,  but 
if  the  ground  was  extra  hard  he  signified  his  dis- 
approval by  refusing  to  gallop  a  yard.  As  for 
*'  punishment  '*  he  seemed  to  possess  a  pachyder- 
matous hide  utterly  impervious  to  the  most  strenuous 


CHASING  AND   RACING  39 

application  of  catgut  or  steel.  Even  the  Embro- 
cation's private  and  most  particular  dog  whip  was 
despised  by  this  old  sinner.  But  when  conditions 
were  favourable  and  he  felt  in  the  mood  he  could  hop 
it  to  a  merry  tune,  and  could  stick  it  out  if  pressed. 
I  won  on  him  first  time  out,  and  then  there  came  a 
day  when,  in  order  to  support  a  certain  meeting,  we 
entered  the  whole  string.  At  that  time  the  lazy 
but  useful  Epsom  Embrocation  was  the  bright  particu- 
lar star  of  the  stable  ;  but  in  order  to  have  something 
to  make  running  for  him  in  the  principal  event 
Ted  entered  Winkelman.  All  the  stable  money  was 
on  the  roan,  but  the  galloways  being  in  different 
ownership,  of  course,  no  declaration  could  be  made. 
There  was  a  matter  of  seven  pounds  between  the  two 
in  Winkelman's  favour,  and  as  the  going  was  on  the 
soft  side,  we  figured  that  the  old  chap  would  condescend 
to  carry  out  his  mission,  as  in  duty  bound  ;  but  we 
little  reckoned  to  what  a  disastrous  purpose.  Of 
course  I  was  up  on  my  own,  whilst  the  faithful 
Tommy  Aldridge  had  the  mount  on  Ted's  representa- 
tive with  orders  to  jump  off  and  keep  in  front  until  I 
was  prepared  to  take  up  the  running.  There  were 
B.yQ  other  runners  with  whose  form  I  was  not 
acquainted,  but  judging  from  a  paddock  inspection 
we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we  commanded  the 
situation.  And  so  it  proved,  but  not  quite  in  the 
fashion  anticipated.  Tommy  followed  his  instructions 
to  the  letter  and  I  lay  up  sides  with  him.     It  was  a 


40  CHASING  AND  RACING 

mile  race  and  by  the  time  we  had  gone  six  furlongs 
the  rest  of  the  field  was  stone  cold  and  Tommy  and 
I  were  out  by  ourselves.  Nearing  the  final  bend  I 
came  up  to  the  leader  when  Tommy  turned  his  head  : 

**  I  say,  Guv'nor,"  he  exclaimed,  *'  this  old  blighter 
is  full  of  running,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

**  Why,  damn  you,'*  I  cried,  "  go  on  and  win, 
if  you  can  I  '* 

All  up  the  straight  we  ran,  neck  and  neck, 
Winkelman  was  galloping  with  diabolical  and  un- 
wonted resolution,  and  the  dog  whip  was  stimu- 
lating the  phlegmatic  Embrocation  to  his  utmost 
endeavour.  He  got  to  the  head  of  his  stable  com- 
panion but  no  further,  and  by  that  small  margin  we 
were  defeated  !     What  a  Pyrrhic  victory  ! 

"  I  hope  I  did  right,  sir,''  said  Tommy,  apolo- 
getically. 

I  do  not  know  what  answer  was  expected,  but  it 
was  in  the  affirmative,  as  Ministers  remark  when  they 
want  to  be  terse  with  an  irritating  and  persistent 
questioner  in  the  House. 

Obviously  this  was  a  tight  and  desperate  finish,  but 
had  Winkelman  won  easily  or  even  cleverly,  no  doubt 
nasty  remarks  would  have  been  buzzed  about. 

Ted's  other  "  tit  "  was  a  well-topped  bay  pony  of 
fourteen  hands,  called  Early  Morn,  but  his  forelegs 
would  have  outdone  the  most  dilapidated  cab  horse, 
so  over  at  the  knee  were  they.  I  rode  him  several 
times  but  do   not    remember  his  having    borne   the 


CHASING  AND   RACING  41 

black  and  gold  even  into  a  modest  **  place  "  ;  though 
he  was  an  amiable  creature  and  a  bit  of  a  **  trick  " 
horse.  If  bribed  with  a  bit  of  sugar  he  would  shake 
hoof  with  hand  when  any  of  my  fair  friends  so  desired. 

The  Usher  and  Epsom  Embrocation  were  entire 
colts.  Both,  and  more  especially  The  Usher,  should 
have  been  invaluable  as  blood  pony  stallions.  I  am 
not  aware  whether  either  were  put  to  such  use,  for 
I  quite  lost  sight  of  them  when  my  choice  little  string 
was  dispersed.  The  Usher  was  one  of  the  handsomest 
thoroughbreds,  on  a  miniature  scale,  that  could  be 
imagined  ;  and  then  look  at  his  pedigree  (as  previously 
stated),  by  a  Derby  winner  (Kisber)  and  with  another 
Derby  winner  (Hermit)  as  maternal  grandsire.  What 
could  be  nicer  ? 

I  have  not  much  to  say  in  favour  of  pony  racing 
as  it  was  carried  on  in  those  days  ;  but  at  Hurlingham 
and  Ranelagh  it  was  a  quite  enjoyable  sport,  indulged 
in  by  some  of  the  best  sportsmen  and  riders  of  the  day. 

This  is  where  I  first  came  in  contact  with  dear 
old  "  Charlie  "  Beresford.  I  had  had  some  sharp  grit 
kicked  into  my  eye  during  a  race  and  came  into  the 
dressing-room  in  agony.  Beresford,  the  handy  man, 
laid  me  out  on  a  form,  turned  up  my  eyelid  with  a 
pencil,  and  whipped  out  the  painful  obstruction.  All 
done  in  the  shake  of  a  duck's  tail  ! 

The  last  time  I  saw  his  lordship  was  when  fishing 
Lord  Cork's  waters  on  the  Pang.  It  was  a  blazing 
day   in   June   and   there   was   nothing   doing   in   the 


42  CHASING  AND   RACING 

angling  line,  so  we  sat  down  in  the  shade  and  dis- 
coursed of  old  times  and  old  pals,  many  of  them  gone 
ahead.  In  a  few  months'  time,  the  cheery  companion 
of  that  day  passed  along. 

**  Willie "  Hall  Walker,  who  afterwards  was 
raised  to  the  peerage  under  the  title  of  Lord  Waver- 
tree,  was  an  exceptionally  fine  horseman.  I  often 
wondered  that  he  did  not  take  to  riding  under  legitimate 
rules,  for  he  had  a  beautiful  seat,  the  best  of  hands 
and  perfect  judgment.  His  average  wins  as  compared 
to  mounts  was  phenomenal.  Another  fine  horseman 
was  H.  C.  Bentley  whom  I  have  already  alluded  to 
as  the  pilot  of  Catona.  When  it  came  to  the  sticks 
or  steeplechasing,  like  Walker,  he  was  well  equipped 
for  the  sport  toward  in  every  particular.  He  was  of  a 
singularly  reserved  and  rather  lofty  disposition;  he 
never  showed  excitement  and  seldom  smiled,  but  one 
day  I  saw  him  fairly  disgruntled. 

A  special  race  had  been  provided  at  Hurlingham 
for  ponies  13.2  and  under.  I  had  nothing  of  this 
height  at  the  time  but  was  keen  on  having  a  cut  in, 
so  Jesse  Winfield  received  the  usual  "  office  "  and 
soon  reported  that  he  had  "  the  goods  "  for  me,  which 
turned  out  to  be  a  varmint-looking  little  mare  named 
Sarah.  I  had  nothing  approaching  her  own  size 
to  try  her  with,  but  thought  if  she  could  make  any 
sort  of  show  against  Catona  at  three  stone,  she  would 
be  pretty  useful  among  the  class  she  would  be  likely 
to  meet  at  Hurlingham  ;  so  I  arranged  for  a  spin, 


CHASING  AND   RACING  43 

and  invited  Harry  Bentley  to  come  with  me  to  Epsom 
(where  my  ponies  were  at  that  time  being  trained  at 
Woodcote  Lodge)  and  to  ride  the  champion  for  a 
try  out  with  Sarah. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  little  chestnut  was  no  sort  of 
use  to  the  bonnie  brown,  who,  in  Bentley's  skilful 
hands,  simply  played  with  her.  So  after  going  some 
six  furlongs  we  made  to  pull  up.  Sooner  thought 
of  than  done,  as  far  as  the  sportive  Sarah  was  con- 
cerned. I  tried  every  kind  of  device,  but  I  could  not 
break  the  loping  gallop  into  which  she  had  subsided. 
She  had  the  snaffle  (a  bit  which  I  have  always  loathed) 
firmly  wedged  in  her  back  grinders.  When  I  let 
her  head  loose  she  dropped  it  momentarily,  but 
directly  I  shortened  rein,  she  had  it  fixed  again.  I 
thought  to  take  her  on  to  the  Derby  course  and  to  let 
her  run  herself  to  a  standstill,  but  I  found  that  the 
chains  were  up,  so  I  had  to  wrench  her  right  round. 
Back  she  cam.e,  easy  enough  to  steer,  but  impossible 
to  stop  !  I  swung  her  round  a  coppice  on  the  hill, 
where  she  slipped  up  and  sent  me  a  pretty  purler,  but 
I  was  not  hurt,  though  delighted  to  be  separated  from 
the  fair  Sarah  and  her  irresponsible  ways.  She  had 
carried  me  a  good  three  miles  and  was  now  in  a  black 
sweat.     My  friend  Bentley  grew  sarcastic. 

**  Why,  what's  up  with  you,  Cockie  }  ''  he  sneered. 
"  Fancy  you  not  being  able  to  hold  a  toy  like  that  ! 
You've  been  wasting  too  hard  I  expect." 

**  Oh,  all  right,"  I  replied.     "  Ton  have  a  go  and 


44  CHASING  AND   RACING 

see  how  you  like  it  !  The  little  beast  has  taken  all 
the  steel  out  of  herself,  but  grant  her  half  an  hour's 
rest  and  she  will  give  you  the  time  of  your  life." 

Well,  my  young  paragon  took  me  at  my  word. 
No  sooner  were  his  bony  legs  over  Sarah  than  she 
was  off  I  This  time  straight  for  Woodcote  End, 
and  soon  pony  and  rider  were  lost  to  sight,  and  as 
regards  the  beastly  little  pony — by  no  means  to 
memory  dear  1  In  half  an  hour  Bentley  returned 
leading  the  now  thoroughly  subdued  tit.  Nor  was 
he  himself  in  a  particularly  lively  mood. 

**  Great  Scott  !  "  he  murmured,  turning  to  the 
sheepish-looking  Jesse.  **  Where  on  earth  did  you 
get  hold  of  this  little  devil  ?  Why  she  has  no  mouth 
at  all.  Don't  you  ride  her  at  Hurlingham,  Cockie. 
If  she  does  not  kill  you^  she  will  charge  the  crowd 
and  fill  the  local  hospital  !  " 

**  Jesse,"  said  I  sternly,  "  take  her  to  the  place 
from  whence  she  came  and  never  let  me  see  her,  or 
the  likes  of  her  again."     And  so  it  was  ! 

Lord  Westbury's  brother,  Guy  Bethel,  was  a 
useful  little  rider,  and  could  go  to  scale  at  a  nice 
weight. 

Latham  Lutwych  had  great  success  on  his  fourteen- 
hand  pony,  The  Boy  (a  curiously  named  mare). 
He  always  handled  her  to  perfection.  She  was  as 
unbeatable  in  her  class  as  Catona  was  among  gallo- 
ways. H.  T.  Barclay,  the  owner  of  the  bold 
Bendigo,    the    predecessor    of  my  filly  Dornroschen 


CHASING  AND   RACING  45 

as  holder  of  the  time  record  for  the  mile,  used  occasion- 
ally to  butt  in.  Later,  like  myself,  he  took  up  riding 
under  Jockey  Club  and  National  Hunt  Rules.  A 
brilliant  man  to  hounds,  he  could  always  do  justice 
to  his  mounts. 

These  are  only  a  few  of  those  who  sported  silk 
at  the  fashionable  club  resorts. 

There  was  a  terrible  mix  up  at  Hurlingham  on 
one  occasion,  when  the  leading  pony  slipped  up  in 
negotiating  a  turn  ;  whereupon  practically  the  whole 
field  of  seven  sat  down  in  a  heap  on  the  fallen  one. 
A  rider  performed  a  double  somersault  in  the  air 
and  landed  on  his  feet,  clear  of  the  struggling  mass. 
Marvellous  to  relate,  with  one  exception  neither 
riders  nor  ponies  were  any  the  worse  for  the  melange^ 
which  was  truly  horrific  and  nerve-startling  to  behold. 
The  one  exception  was  poor  Hanbury  who  was  carried 
away  in  an  ambulance — insensible.  He  soon  re- 
covered, as  no  serious  injury  had  accrued.  But 
relentless  Fate  was  dogging  his  footsteps  ;  for,  very 
shortly  afterwards,  a  horse  he  was  riding  (at  Lewes, 
I  think)  ran  into  a  post,  and  poor  Hanbury  was  killed 
on  the  spot  ! 

So  much  for  pony  racing.  Now  let  us  hark  back 
to  more  serious  business. 


CHAPTER  IV 

LTHOUGH  well  placed  in  our  cosy  little 
maisonette  in  South  Audley  Street,  my 
soul  panted  for  more  space  and  purer 
air.  A  son  had  been  born  to  me,  and 
I  wanted  him  brought  up  amid  the  glories  of  Nature  ; 
moreover,  I  was  keen  on  some  real  sport  with  horse 
and  hound,  rod  and  gun.  Pony  racing  and  pigeon 
shooting  were  all  very  well  in  their  way.  The  latter 
pastime  (which  has  been  falsely  accused  of  posing  as 
a  sport)  aroused  the  competitive  spirit  which  has,  from 
my  earliest  days,  been  one  of  my  most  marked  charac- 
teristics. I  may  have  something  to  say  about  my 
experiences  in  this  connection  later  on.  For  the 
moment  I  will  content  myself  by  boldly  asserting  that 
all  sport  is  cruel,  and  were  pigeon  shooting  a  sport, 
which  it  is  not^  it  must  be  written  down  as  no  more  cruel 
than  most  gunning  activities,  and  far  less  than  some. 

Having  seriously  contracted  this  wander-lust  I 
began  my  search  for  a  likely  pitch,  and  found  it  in  the 
advertisement  pages  of  our  time-honoured  Field : 

**  A  fine  and  ancient  Abbey  with  kennels,  stabling, 

22    bedrooms,    standing    in    its    own    well-timbered 

grounds,    with    1500   acres    shooting    and    first-rate 

46 


CHASING   AND   RACING  47 

trout  fishing."  These  were  some  of  the  attractions 
offered.  Forthwith  I  sent  the  faithful  Ted  on  a 
voyage  of  discovery  and  inspection.  His  report  was 
highly  favourable.  Knowing  me  for  the  keen  angler 
I  was  and  ever  will  be,  as  long  as  I  can  cast  a  fly, 
my  hefty  cousin  waxed  eloquent  as  to  the  "  whoppers  " 
he  had  seen  in  the  narrows  (it  was  then  the  spawning 
season)  of  one  of  the  lakelets,  fed  by  a  stream  named 
the  Misburn,  a  little  tributary  of  the  Chess. 

Without  more  ado  I  hied  me  to  the  agents,  and  in 
due  course  found  myself  fixed  up  with  a  three  years' 
tenancy  of  Missenden  Abbey — furnished.  Thither 
I  removed  my  lares  and  penates  as  quickly  as  might 
be  contrived.  Then  came  the  absorbing  occupation 
of  stocking  it.  Horses,  ponies,  dogs,  cats,  poultry, 
pigeons,  rabbits,  pigs,  cows,  and  other  domestic  details, 
including  guinea-pigs,  two  monkeys  and  a  grey  parrot, 
were  assembled,  and  the  cry  was  "  Still  they  come  !  " 

Those  who  have  seen  Missenden  Abbey  will 
have  appreciated  its  beauties.  It  was  a  vast  place, 
stone  flagged  in  its  great  hall,  and  therefore  inclined 
to  be  so  chilly  in  the  autumn  and  winter  months  that 
my  coal  bill  mounted  to  colossal  figures.  It  took  us 
all  much  time  and  thought  to  find  our  way  about  the 
labrynthine  passages  and  remote  quarters.  On  one 
occasion  a  visitor,  noted  for  the  strictness  of  his  virtue 
and  his  purity  of  thought,  nearly  forfeited  this  care- 
fully built  up  reputation  by  being  found  at  the  dead 
of  night  in  his  pyjamas,  trying  the  door  of  an  equally 


48  CHASING   AND   RACING 

straight  and  rigid  maiden.  Of  course  he  had  lost 
his  way  and  made  a  mistake — of  course.  But  it  is 
not  my  metier  to  enter  into  a  minute  description  of 
this  ancient  pile  and  its  picturesque  and  well-timbered 
demesne,  but  rather  to  chronicle  the  sports  and 
pastimes,  the  spoofs  and  stunts,  which  took  place  within 
its  venerable  walls  and  its  spacious  environments. 

I  have  stated  that  my  earliest  experience  of  hunting 
was  with  the  Trinity  (Cambridge)  beagles,  when  those 
distinguished  cricket  "  blues,"  George  Longman 
(late  of  Eton)  and  George  Macan  (a  contemporary 
of  mine  at  Harrow)  were  joint  masters. 

But  when  I  came  down,  and  whilst  yet  my  dear 
old  dad  was  alive,  I  got  together  a  motley  pack  at 
Moat  Mount,  with  which  I  essayed  to  harry  the  timid 
hare  ;  but  that  useful  rodent  was  exceeding  scarce 
in  those  parts,  and  it  was  only  occasionally  that  a 
mournful  sequence  of  blank  days  was  relieved  by  a 
find,  and  then  my  "jelly  dogs,"  including  the  lame, 
the  halt,  and  the  blind,  would  string  out  and  disperse, 
each  one  doing  a  bit  of  hunting  on  his  or  her  own, 
and  not  being  at  all  particular  as  to  whether  the  hare 
hit  on  was  that  of  the  fugitive  lepus^  or  of  the  common 
and  odoriferous  coney.  But  I  did  have  a  real  good 
chivvy  one  fine  day.  Most  unexpectedly,  a  fine  old 
Jack  hare  was  bustled  out  of  a  dry  ditch  and  then  the 
fun  began  !  Our  quarry  seem.ed  to  enjoy  the  sport 
and  kept  ringing  around  and  giving  us  a  kindly  view 
of   his    russet    fur,   whenever    scent    failed    and    my 


CHASING  AND   RACING  49 

vagabonds  were  at  fault.  Now  as  this  occurred  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  the  Sunday-school  children  ran  amok 
to  join  the  gay  throng,  there  was  a  wailing  and  gnashing 
of  teeth  among  the  "  unco*  guid  '*  of  the  village,  who 
formed  a  deputation  imploring  **  The  Dads  "  to  put 
a  stop  to  my  desecration  of  the  Lord's  Day.  This  he 
did — diplomatically  ;  and  as  by  this  time  I  had  used 
up  every  hare  within  a  radius  of  many  miles,  but  never 
accounted  for  one,  and  as  my  precious  beagles  (so  called) 
were  by  now  quite  beyond  my  control,  I  graciously 
condescended  to  abandon  my  *'  country  "  and  put  down 
my  "  pack,''  after  having  selected  three  couples  of  the 
most  persistent  *'  bunny  busters  "  to  act  as  aids  to  the 
gun  ;  a  duty  which  be  it  said  to  their  credit  they  per- 
formed with  becoming  zest  and  efficiency.  The  gun 
was  used,  not  with,  but  on,  the  rest,  by  a  callous  hire- 
ling, and  I  tried  to  forget  that  I  ever  owned  them.  But 
the  spirit  of  Nimrod  burnt  brightly  within  me.  No 
sooner  were  Ted  and  I  installed  with  our  respective 
wives  and  offspring  in  the  Abbey,  than  we  set  about 
forming  a  harrier  pack  to  hunt  a  rather  apochryphal 
country  long  since  abandoned,  if  indeed  it  had  ever 
existed.  At  first  there  was  a  deal  of  squealing  on  the 
part  of  the  Committee  of  the  Old  Berkeley  (West) 
Foxhounds  ;  but  the  farmers  were  dead  keen  on  this 
addition  to  the  sporting  attractions  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  when  I  gave  a  firm  undertaking  to  keep  my 
**  jelly  dogs  "  remote  from  all  the  well-established  fox 
coverts,  our  little  venture  was  tolerated.     I   had  to 

£ 


so  CHASING  AND  RACING 

gather  together  what  hounds  I  could  ;  consequently, 
to  begin  with,  we  had  rather  a  mixed  lot  ;  but  among 
them  some  really  first-class  material.  As  for  the 
horses,  I  managed  to  pick  up  some  useful  tits.  For  my 
own  riding,  I  hied  me  to  Belhus,  where  that  eccentric, 
but  kind  and  cheery  little  old  sportsman.  Sir  Thomas 
Lennard,  was  holding  one  of  his  annual  sales.  As 
usual,  Ted  had  been  there  in  advance  and  had  seen 
Tom  Collar,  the  stud  groom,  perform  prodigies  of 
valour  on  certain  desirable  hunters.  Now  in  those  days 
I  had  a  theory,  which  later  I  abandoned.  It  was  that 
if  a  weight-carrier  could  shoulder  a  sixteen-stone  man 
comfortably,  he  would  simply  fly  over  his  fences  and 
gallop  his  field  to  a  standstill  when  he  had  only  eleven 
stone  (my  hunting  weight)  on  his  back.  My  acquaint- 
ance with  the  ways  and  wiles  of  the  thoroughbred  as 
represented  by  the  rollicking  blood  ponies  I  had  ridden 
led  me  to  distrust  the  whole  race.  When  it  comes  to 
carrying  the  horn  and  hunting  one's  hounds,  one  does 
not  want  to  have  head  and  hands  occupied  with  an 
impatient  and  fiery  bit  of  blood.  So  I  went  for  hairy- 
heeled  specimens,  of  solid  build,  who  could  both 
gallop  and  jump. 

Well,  I  got  hold  of  some  wonderful  performers  at 
Belhus,  to  wit.  Yeoman,  a  chestnut  of  cob  build  who 
could  jump  anything.  If  he  could  not  do  it  in  once, 
"  he  could  manage  it  in  seven,"  as  "  Rock  "  (Lord 
Cholmondeley)  once  observed.  At  timber  he  was  a 
marvel,  but  he  had  a  way  of  coming  right  under  the 


CHASING  AND  RACING  51 

obstacle,  pausing  a  moment,  and  then  of  lifting  himself, 
all  fours  at  once;  and  even  so,  he  invariably  cleared  with- 
out a  rap.  The  first  time  I  rode  him  at  a  five-barred 
gate,  I  was  not  prepared  for  this  sort  of  thing.  Conse- 
quently I  was  jerked  out  of  the  saddle,  and  sent  an 
imperial  toss  which  left  me  guessing  ;  but  next  time 
I  was  ready,  and  on  one  occasion,  in  the  Vale  of 
Aylesbury,  I  bet  that  I  would  take  Yeoman  over  three 
full-sized  five-barred  gates  in  a  line,  and  that  he  would 
not  touch  one  of  them.  I  won  the  wager  all  right. 
But  this  charming  little  chestnut  was  troubled  with 
the  slows.  He  was  good  enough  for  the  "  red 
currant  "  business,  but  when  it  came  to  hunting  the 
wily  red-skin  he  was  apt  to  be  like  the  proverbial  cow's 
tail — "  all  behind," — a  very  unbecoming  position  for 
the  huntsman  master  !  So  after  much  heart-burning 
and  perturbation  of  mind  I  sold  Yeoman  to  a  pal,  Tom 
Farries,  partner  of  that  peerless  sportsman  and  prince 
of  gentlemen,  "  Uncle  Punch  "  Burbidge,  and  right 
well  did  the  beloved  cob  carry  his  new  owner. 

I  have  a  different  story  to  tell  of  another  of  my 
Belhus  purchases,  to  wit,  one  Melbury,  a  rich 
brown,  standing  quite  16.2.  He  came  originally  from 
the  West  country,  and  was  the  offspring  of  a  Queen's 
Premium  stallion  travelling  in  that  district.  I  have  no 
exact  information  regarding  his  dam  ;  but  was  told  she 
was  "  a  van  mare.'*  She  may  herself  have  had  a  blood 
cross,  but  undoubtedly  she  also  had  the  bar  sinister  ; 
for   Melbury  was  inclined   to   be  a   bit   hairy  about 


52  CHASING  AND  RACING 

the  heels,  and  was  built  on  modified  shire  lines,  though 
he  had  grand  shoulders  and  was  not  fiddle-headed. 
This  was  the  very  best  hunter  I  ever  rode.  He  was  a 
magnificent  fencer,  and  never  put  a  foot  wrong.  He 
would  take  anything  his  head  was  set  to,  yet  never 
rushed  an  obstacle.  He  had  a  perfect  mouth,  delight- 
ful manners,  and  gave  a  firm  but  easy  feel.  He  had 
the  sweetest  of  temperaments.  Moreover,  he  had  a 
fair  turn  of  speed  and,  at  one  time,  could  stay  for  ever, 
though  latterly  I  fancy  his  heart  became  affected.  It 
was  a  big  one  that  never  gave  way  until  Nature  gave 
out.  I  rode  him  twice  a  week  with  the  harriers  and, 
subsequently,  three  days  a  fortnight  with  the  O.B.H. 

I  was  on  his  back  on  the  momentous  occasion  when, 
for  the  first  time,  I  appeared  as  Master  of  the  last- 
named,  time-honoured  pack,  in  all  the  glory  of  the 
"buff''  (really  canary)  livery,  at  the  opening  meet, 
surrounded  by  my  beloved  hounds. 

But  I  am  anticipating,  though  I  may  as  well  state 
here  and  now  that  as  I  rode  Melbury  on  the  first 
day  of  my  mastership,  so  he  was  my  mount  on  the  last 
day  thereof,  and  in  the  interim  I  had  never  been  off"  his 
back,  except  when  I  so  willed  it.  He  had  never  made 
even  the  semblance  of  a  mistake.  The  day  which  was 
to  close  my  association  with  the  O.B.H.  was  to  end  the 
life  of  my  bonnie  brown  hunter.  I  had  changed 
horses  in  the  middle  of  the  day  and,  on  my  return  after 
having  kennelled  my  pack,  I  was  met  at  the  door  of  my 
home  (then  Chorley  Wood  House)  by  my  valet  Bedford. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  S3 

I  saw  that  there  was  something  wrong,  as  he  wore  a 
very  serious  look. 

*'  I  have  bad  news  for  you,  sir  !  '* 

"  Out  with  it,  man  '*  (I  had  a  mysterious  intuition). 
"  Something's  the  matter  with  Melbury  ?  '' 

"  He's  gone,  sir.'* 

"  Dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  when  George  (George  White,  my  second 
horseman)  got  him  home,  Melbury  was  seized  with 
gripes  or  something  and  was  cast  in  his  box.  Before 
we  could  get  the  vet.  it  was  all  over." 

A  tragedy  indeed,  and  under  the  circumstances, 
painfully  dramatic. 

Now  to  hark  back  to  my  "jelly  dogs." 

Shortly  after  I  had  begun  hunting  the  proble- 
matical Missenden  country,  I  received  a  communica- 
tion from  Mr.  Cripps,  Q.C.,  of  Parmoor,  near  Marlow, 
asking  if  I  would  care  to  take  over  his  harrier  country. 
He  was  then  over  eighty  years  of  age,  and  though  hale 
and  hearty,  he  confessed  that  he  did  not  feel  equal  to 
carrying  on  with  the  Hambleden  Vale  pack.  At  his  "'\ 
invitation  I  went  over  to  Parmoor  with  the  ever-ready 
Ted,  on  a  voyage  of  discovery.  We  were  most 
hospitably  received,  and  had  an  opportunity  of  witness- 
ing the  work  of  the  harriers,  a  very  level  and  useful 
little  lot,  hunted  by  a  charming  old  fellow,  William 
Snaith,  of  low  stature  and  high  voice,  who  consented 
to  come  with  the  pack  and  to  act  as  kennel  huntsman. 
From  him  I  had  many  a  useful  wrinkle  which  served 


S4  CHASING  AND   RACING 

me  in  good  stead  In  the  outwitting  of  the  tricky  and 
elusive  hare.  When  I  took  on  the  O.B.H.  this  worthy 
became  my  coachman  and  stud  groom.  At  Parmoor 
I  met  the  Cripps  family,  the  eldest  of  whom,  when 
raised  to  the  peerage,  took  the  name  of  his  residence  for 
his  title.  The  second  son  Harrison,  with  whom  I 
struck  up  a  pleasant  friendship,  became  a  celebrated 
surgeon,  and  being  an  enthusiastic  salmon  fisher  as 
well  as  an  all-round  sportsman  we  had  much  in 
common. 

With  the  Hambleden  Vale  pack  and  my  own  to 
choose  from,  I  was  able  to  select  the  best  hounds  from 
each  and  draft  the  surplus  ;  so  that  I  now  had  a  level, 
handsome  lot  of  workers  to  represent  the  amalgam^ated 
**  Missenden  and  Hambleden  Vale  Harriers.*'  In 
connection  with  this  drafting  I  have  a  strange  tale  to 
tell,  which  illustrates  to  a  remarkable  degree  the 
homing  instinct  possessed  by  the  canine  race. 

Two  couples  and  a  half  of  my  draft  I  sent  to  a 
brother  M.H.  in  Wales,  as  being  an  inch  below  my 
standard  (i8  ins.).  They  were  coupled  up  and  placed 
in  the  guard's  van,  which  was  closed  in  so  that  they 
could  not  possibly  see  the  country  through  which  they 
were  passing.  They  were  safely  delivered,  but  the 
following  day  I  received  a  wire  from  my  friend  which 
ran  :  "  Your  hounds  broken  kennel  and  disappeared. 
Please  make  Inquiries  your  end.** 

For  three  days  nothing  was  heard  of  the  truants, 
but  on  the  evening  of  the  third,  the  K.H.  was  aroused 


CHASING  AND   RACING  55 

by  a  dismal  whining  outside  the  kennels  and  a  devil 
of  a  rumpus  within.  Quickly  throwing  on  some 
garments  he  sallied  forth  to  find  a  couple  and  a  half  of 
the  draft  that  had  been  sent  to  Wales  at  the  door  of  the 
kennel  in  a  pitiable  state.  They  were  nothing  but 
skin  and  bone,  and  the  pad  of  every  foot  was  raw  or 
blistered.  One  of  these  poor,  faithful  creatures,  a 
bitch  appropriately  named  Truelove,  was  at  her 
last  gasp,  and  in  spite  of  unremitting  attention  she 
passed  away  ;  whilst  it  was  weeks  before  the  survivors 
regained  anything  like  condition.  As  for  the  missing 
couple,  nothing  was  ever  seen  or  heard  of  them  again  ; 
their  fate  was  a  mystery.  Needless  to  say  that  Pilot 
and  his  brother  Pieman  were  not  sent  back  to 
Wales.  I  preferred  to  refund  the  cheque  for  which 
they  had  been  exchanged,  and  to  overlook  their  want 
of  an  inch  in  height. 

Verily  we  of  the  M.  and  H.V.H.  had  a  merry  time. 
In  addition  to  the  venerable  and  squeaky  Snaith  I  had 
three  others  in  the  green  livery  to  whip  in  to  me,  viz. 
the  inevitable  Ted  Jaquet,  and  my  brothers-in-law, 
Ronald  and  Wilfred  Barlow,  neither  of  whom  had 
previously  had  experience  of  equestrian  exercise  ;  but 
they  took  to  it  like  ducks  to  water,  and  soon  became 
efficient  and  helpful  horsemen,  though  at  first  they  bit 
the  dust  with  monotonous  regularity.  Their  sisters, 
Miriam  and  "  Freddie,"  were  even  more  enthusiastic, 
and  shaped  so  well  in  their  apprenticeship  with  the 
boys  in  green  that  in  later  days,  when  following  **  the 


Se  CHASING  AND  RACING 

buff/*  they  were  looked  upon  as  the  finest  horsewomen 
of  the  O.B.H.  As  long  as  the  supply  of  fur  held  out 
we  could  always  be  sure  of  showing  first-rate  sport  ; 
especially  in  that  part  of  the  country  which  included 
the  grass  lands  of  the  Aylesbury  Vale.  Here  was  a 
gallant  race  of  hares.  If  and  when  found,  puss,  after 
one  ring,  would  go  straight  off  to  the  Chiltern  Hills, 
sometimes  giving  us  a  burst  of  over  two  miles,  cut 
short  on  some  occasions  by  a  **  worry  worry  '*  ;  for  my 
little  jelly  dogs  could  hop  it  to  a  lively  tune  when  scent 
was  propitious  or  when  they  could  race  away,  close  to 
the  scut. 

But  there  came  a  time  when  the  numbers  of  the 
quarry  became  smaller  and  smaller,  and  unbeautifully 
less,  for  this  was  in  the  days  when  the  effect  of  **  the 
Ground  Game  Act  "  was  beginning  to  make  itself 
unpleasantly  obvious. 

So  there  were  occasions  when  even  the  keen  eye 
of  Jack  Westrup,  and  his  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
ways  and  wiles  of  "  Madam  "  failed  us.  Blank  days 
were  all  too  frequent,  and  at  last  I  was  driven  to  the 
purchase  of  a  hard-bitten  stag,  to  vary  the  monotony 
and  to  give  our  farmer  friends  and  other  followers  a 
bit  of  a  gallop.  Personally  I  hold  no  brief  for  stag- 
hunting  in  any  shape  or  form.  Least  of  all  the  hunting 
of  the  so-called  "wild'*  beast  by  the  Devon  and 
Somerset  S.H.  I  have  heard  those  cranks  who  want 
to  differentiate  between  the  degrees  of  cruelty  entailed 
in  the  pursuit  of  field  sports  say  sententiously,  **  I  can 


CHASING  AND   RACING  57 

understand  the  hunting  of  the  wild  stag  on  Exmoor, 
that  is  true  sport  ;  but  to  chase  a  poor  deer,  released 
from  a  cart,  until  it  dies  of  exhaustion,  drowns  itself,  or 
is  impaled  on  a  spiked  paling,  I  call  it,  not  sport,  but 
diabolical  brutality."  Which,  of  course,  is  a  betrayal 
of  crass  ignorance  such  as  is  to  be  expected  from  those 
who,  after  inserting  a  wedge  to  eliminate  sports — the 
cruelty  of  which  is  obvious  to  the  man  in  the  street — 
are  bent  on  driving  it  home,  until  our  primitive  sporting 
instincts  are  entirely  exorcised,  and  we  become  a  nation 
of  sentimental  degenerates. 

Now  what  is  the  truth  about  these  two  forms  of  stag- 
hunting  ?  The  wild  stag  is  pig  fat  and  has  the  burden 
of  his  antlers  to  carry.  He  is  chevied  out  of  his  native 
fastness  by  "  the  tufters,"  and  having  been  allowed  what 
is  considered  sufficient  law,  the  pack  is  laid  on,  and 
never  leaves  the  line  until  the  quarry  sinks  in  what  he 
imagines  to  be  a  friendly  stream,  or  takes  to  the  open 
sea.  In  the  first  case,  he  is  lassoed  ;  in  the  other  he  is 
**  taken  ''  by  boat.  In  either  case  his  throat  is  slit. 
The  country  will  not  admit  of  riding  to  hounds  as  fox- 
hunters  understand  the  term.  There  is  no  fencing 
and  precious  little  excitement.  Now  for  the  hunting 
of  the  carted  deer.  He  is  in  as  perfect  condition  as  a 
trained  race-horse.  He  has  been  deprived  of  his  head 
honours,  and  is  fit  to  run,  not  for  his  life,  but  to  give  the 
hounds  (whom  he  knows  and  fears  not)  and  the  field  a 
good  run  for  their  money.  When  he  is  tired  of  the 
journey  and  feeling  fed  up  with  the  sport,  he  looks  out 


58  CHASING  AND   RACING 

for  a  convenient  stable  or  farm  building.  Then  he 
calmly  awaits  the  arrival  of  the  pack  and  its  attendants 
with  a  comfortable  conveyance  to  take  him  back  to  his 
paddock,  where  he  will  have  an  excellent  repast,  and 
sleep  the  sleep  of  the  just.  I  remember  on  one  occasion 
hunting  with  the  Queen's  when  a  thick  mist  descended. 
My  faithful  Ted  and  I  got  lost,  but  chanced  across 
some  of  the  stragglers  of  the  royal  pack.  Keeping 
close  to  their  sterns  we  were  half  across  a  twenty-acre 
field  when  we  came  up  with  the  main  body,  who  had 
their  stag  at  bay  in  the  open.  The  latter  was  quietly 
browsing,  what  time  an  enthusiastic  hound  or  two, 
venturing  too  near,  would  be  contemptuously  but  not 
ungently  **  hoofed  '*  away  by  the  stag.  We  had 
visions  of  a  ghastly  tragedy  and  "  a  poor,  hunted  victim 
being  torn  to  tatters  by  the  ferocious  pack  '*  ;  so  we 
were  prepared  to  do  battle  to  avert  the  catastrophe, 
but  nothing  happened,  and  presently  Goodall  and  his 
merry  men  came  up  and  relieved  us  of  our  responsibility. 
I  never  did  much  hunting  with  the  D.  and  S.  Three 
days  was  enough  for  me,  but  on  the  last  I  had  an 
experience  which  falls  to  the  lot  of  very  few,  yea,  even 
of  those  who,  season  after  season,  have  devoted  them- 
selves to  stumbling  and  plunging  over  the  picturesque 
banks,  trees,  burns,  and  bogs  of  Exmoor.  I  had  been 
told  that  the  tip  was  to  hire  a  local  gee,  used  to  the 
game,  and  by  no  manner  of  means  to  bring  my  own 
fox-catchers  for  the  job,  so  I  went  to  the  well-known 
job-master  White,  of  Minehead,  and  told  him  what  I 


CHASING  AND   RACING  59 

wanted.     Seeing  that  I  was  a  light  weight  with  some 
sort  of  reputation  as  a  gentleman  rider  he  showed  me  a 
pretty  little  chestnut  blood  mare  about  fifteen  hands, 
and  assured  me  she  was  "  It  '*  for  the  purpose  toward. 
Well,   when   I   accompanied   Mr.   Bassett  to  the 
tufting  stunt,  I  stood  at  the  corner  of  the  big  Cloutsham 
covert  all  agog  ;   whilst  the  old  hounds  were  **  chowk- 
ing  *'  away  and  driving  the  stag  into  the  open.     By- 
and-by  there  was  an    awful  crashing  in    the  under- 
growth, and  out  burst  an  animal,  which  to  my  startled 
eyes  appeared  about  the  dimensions  of  a  No.  i  full- 
sized  elephant.    Moreover,  he  carried,  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  "  royal  "  honours.     Not  that  I  had  much  oppor- 
tunity of  counting  the  tines,  for  Daisy,  the  little  lady 
who  bore  me,  and  who  might  have  been  supposed  to 
be  acquainted  with  stags    in  all    their  glory,  was  so 
startled  by  the  sudden  apparition  that  she  reared  up  on 
end  and  fell  backwards,  but  luckily  without  imposing 
her  weight  on  my  recumbent  form.     As  soon  as  I  had 
regained  my  breath  and  the  saddle  I  began  to  exploit 
my  very  best  "  View  Halloas."     Presently  the  master 
rode  up. 

**  Good  God,  Cox,  what  has  happened  ?  Are  you 
hurt  ?  " 

"  Hurt  ?     No  !  " 

"  Then  what's  all  the  row  about  ?  " 

"  Why!  '*  yelled  I,  all  excitement,  "  a  big  beast  has 
gone  clear  away  over  the  open.  If  you  get  the  pack 
I  can  put  you  straight  on  the  line.'* 


6o  CHASING  AND   RACING 

**  My  poor  friend/'  sighed  Bassett  indulgently, 
"  don't  excite  yourself  ;  there's  heaps  of  time.  We'll 
take  up  the  tufters  and  go  and  have  a  bite  and  a 
glass." 

"  But  are  you  not  going  to  hunt  the  stag  ?  Surely 
he's  one  of  the  right  sort  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  my  good  fellow,  all  in  good  time. 
In  twenty  minutes  we  will  get  a  move  on.  Come 
along." 

A  strange  proceeding,  but  I  had  to  be  content. 

In  due  course  the  pack  was  laid  on,  and  the  gay 
throng  crowded  after.  Daisy  could  gallop  a  bit  and 
was  handy,  so  I  soon  threaded  my  way  to  the  front 
rank.  The  hounds  broke  over  the  heather-clad  moor. 
I  was  now  close  up  with  them  and  highly  pleased  with 
myself.  I  looked  round;  I  was  the  one  lonely  horse- 
man on  the  open  expanse.  Huntsmen,  master,  whips, 
and  the  field  had  disappeared  as  if  the  ground  had 
opened  and  swallowed  them  up,  which  a  moment  later 
it  did  in  my  case.  The  little  chestnut  turned  turtle 
and  I  was  sent  flying — an  interesting  performance  which 
she  repeated  before  another  half  mile  had  been  covered. 
In  both  cases  she  had  come  to  grief  over  a  boulder 
hidden  in  the  heather.  I  thought  these  native  tits 
knew  all  about  such  lethal  traps;  it  seemed  not.  The 
hounds  were  now  well  ahead  and  sinking  a  deep  and 
precipitous  nullah  or  chine.  They  crossed  the  Barle 
and  streamed  away,  up  the  opposite  slope.  I  was 
pounded  fairly  and  squarely.     No  more  hounds  or  stag 


CHASING  AND   RACING  6i 

for  me  that  day.     When  I  took  Daisy  back  to  White,  I 
inquired  as  to  why  she  had  been  so  acrobatic. 

"  Well,"  said  the  genial  dealer,  **  you  see,  sir,  she's 
a  bit  new  to  the  country,  she  only  came  down  from 
Tattersall's  day  before  yesterday.'* 

**  But  you  didn't  tell  me  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  no  sir,  she  was  the  only  nag  I  had  free,  and 
I  didn't  want  to  disappoint  you.  Besides,  you  being, 
so  to  speak,  a  bit  of  a  horseman,  I  thought  you  would 
fall  light." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  very  much — and  so  forth  !  " 

Next  time  out  I  had  a  good  hunter  mare  provided 
for  me. 

**  She  pulls  a  bit.  Captain  Cox,  but  you  won't  mind 
that,"  said  the  head  lad. 

"  Oh,  won't  I,  but  I  do!  I  simply  loathe  pullers  ; 
but  as  it's  Norah  or  nothing  I  suppose  I  must  have  a 
dart." 

And  she  did  start  pulling,  but  I  was  able  to  keep 
her  enthusiasm  within  reasonable  bounds,  so  that,  by  the 
end  of  the  day  she  was  quite  handy.  I  had  the  privi- 
lege of  following  a  farmer  who  knew  every  inch  of  the 
moor,  and  though  I  never  caught  sight  of  hounds  until 
the  kill,  I  had  the  doubtful  pleasure  of  seeing  the  stag 
roped  out  of  the  river  Barle  and  slaughtered. 

My  third  and  last  day  found  Norah  booked  for  no 
less  a  personage  than  my  friend  and  brother  "  rider  " 
Roddy  Owen,  prince  of  horsemen  and  best  of  good 
fellows.     But  this  time  the  dealer  had  a  real  nice  blood 


62  CHASING  AND   RACING 

mare   called   The   Duchess   for   me.     Roddy  and   I, 
having  been  lost  in  the  run,  chanced  upon  one  another 
a  mile  or  so  outside  Minehead.     We  were  jogging 
along  quietly  when  suddenly  we  became  aware  that 
hounds  were  running  in  the  vicinity.     Presently  the 
hunted  stag  bounded  on  to  the  road  and  down  it,  with 
the  leading  hounds,  on  a  hot  line,  not  three  hundred 
yards    behind.     As    soon    as    they   appeared   on    the 
macadam  the  stag  flew  the  palings  of  Dyke  Acland's 
Park  and,  landing  on  the  turf,  sped  straight  across  the 
open.     The  whole  pack  followed  suit.     We  galloped 
to  the  lodge  gates  and  entered  the  park  just  in  time  to 
see  a  really  unique  performance  ;  for  the  hounds  got  a 
view  of  the  quarry  and  racing  him  down  on  the  smooth 
turf,  howled  him  over  in  the  open^  as  foxhounds  would 
the  little  red  rover.     Whilst  the  obsequies  were  being 
performed   by  the   huntsman   (a   namesake  of  mine) 
Roddy  and  I  stood  by.     I  was  taking  a  pull  at  the  flask 
he   had  thoughtfully  handed   to  me  ;  whilst   he  was 
lighting  a  cigar. 

Suddenly,  without  warning.  The  Duchess  gave 
a  piercing  squeal  and  bounded  into  the  air,  all  fours  at 
once,  sending  me  flying  skyward,  and  took  to  her  heels. 
There  I  sat,  in  a  state  of  disgruntlement,  whilst  Roddy 
was  seized  with  a  merriment  which  threatened  to 
develop  into  apoplexy.  He  was  enjoying  himself  too 
acutely  to  be  capable  of  articulation.  But  whilst  at 
the  acme  of  enjoyment,  the  sprightly  Norah  gave 
a    first-class   imitation  of  Her  Grace    the    Duchess's 


CHASING  AND  RACING  61, 

evolution,  and  in  a  moment  Roddy  was  seated  beside 
me,  whilst  his  mare  galloped  off  to  join  the  other 
deserter. 

"  Who  the ?   What   the ? ''    began  the 

fallen  hero  of  a  hundred  races  ;  then,  "  Here,  I  say, 
damn  it  all,  Cockie,  we're  sitting  on  a  wasps'  nest  ! 
Run  for  your  life,"  and  we  did. 

The  mystery  was  solved.     Both  our  mares  had 
been  stung. 

So  much  for  stag  hunting.  I  am  glad  to  be  quit 
of  it,  although  Ted  has  a  glorious  tale  to  tell  of 
how,  when  I  was  away  endeavouring  to  catch  the 
judge's  eye  at  Sandown,  Bibury,  or  some  such  venue 
where  owners,  trainers,  gees,  and  riders  of  sorts  most 
do  congregate,  a  message  had  come  down  from  H.M.'s 
Huntsman  to  say  that  a  deer  had  been  left  in  our 
neighbourhood  and  would  the  M.  and  H.V.H.  kindly 
take  it,  or  hunt  it  home.  Here  was  a  gala  gaiety  for 
my  cousin,  who  wired  me  for  leave  to  proceed.  My 
reply  was  "  Carry  on  1  "  They  found  the  outlying 
beast  all  right,  and  according  to  His  Nibs,  he  hunted 
it  from  early  morn  to  dewy  eve,  nine  mortal  hours  on 
end,  and  were  only  defeated  by  the  sombre  shades  of 
night.  Bully  for  Ted,  but  no  more  hare  harrying  for 
me  for  a  fortnight,  with  25  per  cent,  of  my  precious 
"jelly  dogs  "  still  on  the  sick  list  ! 

Those  who  like  it,  may  stick  to  their  stag  hunting. 
What  is  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's  poison. 


CHAPTER  V 

JUST  a  few  more  words  that  touch  on  pony 
racing,  inasmuch  as  Missenden  witnessed 
a  celebration  which  excited  much  local 
interest.  We  had  not  been  long  established 
at  the  ancient  Abbey  before  a  brain  wave  struck  us. 
Why  not  get  up  a  meeting  of  "  the  miniatures  "  ?  No 
sooner  thought  of  than  carried  out  by  the  genius  of 
organization  possessed  by  Ted.  One  adjacent  field 
lent  itself  tolerably  well  to  the  venture,  and  all  went 
swimmingly.  My  friends  of  the  cult  rallied  to  the 
call  nobly,  and  we  had  quite  a  representative  entry. 
Among  those  who  patronized  the  meeting  being  J.  B. 
("  Bunny  ")  Leigh,  "  Gratty  "  Blagrave,  and  one 
Charlie  A' Court,  afterwards  known  in  the  Great  War 
as  "  Eye  Witness  "  otherwise  Col.  C.  A.  Repington, 
whose  "  Reminiscences  "  afterwards  created  such  a 
flutter  in  the  social  dove-cotes.  These  were  not  the 
days  of  Catona,  Etna,  Epsom  Embrocation  &  Co.  ; 
but  that  useful  mare  of  all  work,  Phyllis,  nobly 
represented  the  home  string,  and  what  is  more,  helped 
me  to  lift  a  couple  of  races. 

There  was  an  event  open  only  to  horses  ridden  by 

patrons  of  the  M.  and  H.V.H.,  in  which  I  had  entered 

64 


CHASING  AND   RACING  65 

the  trusty  Yeoman,  relying  on  his  undoubted  prowess 
as  a  lepper  to  do  me  honour,  despite  his  woeful  lack  of 
speed.  Certainly  he  jumped  the  far  from  formidable 
obstacles  brilliantly,  but  he  was  outpaced  at  the  finish 
by  a  gee,  ridden  by  his  owner,  an  enthusiastic  supporter 
of  my  harriers,  of  the  name  of  Ackerman.  This  one 
had  not  figured  prominently  in  the  betting,  since  all  and 
sundry  had  been  obsessed  with  the  false  impression  that 
the  steed  was  a  mare  heavy  in  foal  ;  whereas  it  turned 
out  to  be  a  gelding  with  a  "  Little  Mary  '*  distended  by 
a  too  liberal  diet  of  grass.  The  rest  of  the  field  either 
fell  down,  ran  out,  jumped  their  riders  off,  or  pulled 
up  suddenly  in  order,  I  suppose,  to  reserve  their 
energies  for  a  more  fitting  occasion,  or  to  browse  on 
the  rather  profuse  herbage. 

"  Gratty  '*  Blagrave  was  supposed  to  have  a  red-hot 
rod  in  pickle  for  the  great  event  of  the  card,  but  for 
some  reason  or  other  the  good  thing  came  unstuck.  Oh 
yes,  taken  all  in  all  it  was  a  merry  and  genial  day's 
leather  flapping. 

Ted's  report  anent  the  leviathan  trout  was  in  no 
way  exaggerated.  I  watched  the  ponderous  fish  as 
they  disported  themselves  on  the  "  redds  "  and  longed 
for  the  day,  when  well  **  mended,"  they  should  reseek 
the  lakelets  and  condescend  to  take  notice  of  my  artful 
lures. 

A  favourable  day  in  March  prompted  me  to  make 
an  early  attack  ;  but  I  fished  the  whole  stretch  of  the 
waters  without  response  until,  on  my  return,  something 


66  CHASING  AND  RACING 

in  the  way  of  an  angler's  intuition  induced  me  to 
present  a  "  February  red,"  at  the  head  of  the  pool 
nearest  the  manse.      I  cast  well  out  and  sure  enough 
there  was  a  lusty  boil,  my  rod  bent  and  my  reel  sang 
as  the  line  was  run  out  half  across  the  expanse.     When 
safely  netted  the  fish  proved  to  be  a  nice  trout  of  close 
on  three  pounds,  in  very  fair  condition,  considering  the 
time  of  year.     Urged  on  by  this  success  I  tried  the 
whole  stretch  again,  but  nothing  of  note  happened. 
In  April,  May,  and  June,  I  had  some  fine  sport  with 
the   rod.     One   fine   evening   during   the   last-named 
month  of  roses,  taking  with  me  young  Andrew  Lime- 
house  (who  afterwards  becam^e  head  lad  in  my  greyhound 
kennels)  as  a  sort  of  piscatorial  caddy,  I  repaired  to  a 
deep  stream  which  connected  the  penultimate  with  the 
furthest  pond.     The    night  before  I  had  seen  many 
big  fellows  cruising  up  the  far  bank,  feeding  freely, 
and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  a  mighty  raid  as  soon 
as  the  sun  should  set.     When  I  arrived  no  bulges  or 
swirls  disturbed  the  placid  surface,   so   I  sat  down, 
lighted  my  pipe,  and  waited  patiently.     The  fish  were 
tardy  in  making  their  approach  obvious.     It  was  not 
until  a  rising  moon  glinted  on  the  water  that  Andrew 
touched  me  on  the  arm  and  pointed  to  where  silvery 
rings  were  breaking  and  spreading  close  under  the 
opposite  bank.     Hurriedly  I  affixed  a  medium-sized 
"  coachman  "  and  measured  my  cast  so  that  the  fly 
should  drop  right  under  the  overhanging  ledge.     Wait- 
ing until  the  feeding  fish  came  within  comfortable  reach 


CHASING  AND   RACING  67 

I  dropped  the  white-winged  lure  a  foot  in  front  of  his 
nose.     He  had  it  in  a  moment  and  I  was  fast  in  a  good 
one.     After  putting  up  a  strenuous  fight  he  gave  in 
and  came  to  the  net,  deftly  handled  by  Andrew,  2  J  lbs» 
— a  good  start  !     It  was  now  almost  dark,  but  there 
was  a  luminous  patch  where  the  moon's  rays  struck,  in 
the  centre  of  which  I  religiously  placed  my  fly.     Fish 
after  fish  came  to  it,  and  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  I 
creeled  four  and  a  half  brace  of  beauties  ;   the  biggest 
3I  lbs.,  and  not  one  under  i|  lbs.     Then  I  strolled 
home,  happy  and  triumphant,  only  to  find  that  my 
friends  and  my  guests,  after  giving  me  half  an  hour's 
law,  had  fallen  upon  the  flesh-pots  like  a  swarm  of 
locusts,  leaving  me  only  the  husks  of  the  feast  to  satisfy 
a  gargantuan  appetite.     Moreover,  my  CO.,  instead  of 
sympathizing  with  and    extolling  my  skill  with    the 
angle,  read  me  the  Riot  Act,  and  ticked  me  off  severely 
for  my  negligence  in  vacating  the  head  of  the  table  in 
favour  of  "  a  few  wretched  trout,"  which  I  could  catch 
at  any  time.     What  a  lack  of  understanding  !     And 
yet  some  admirers  of  the  sex  are  good  to  maintain  that 
the  sporting  instinct  is  as  strong  in  women  as  in  the 
mere  male,  if  but  given  a  fair  chance  ! 

Now,  as  it  happened  these  same  trout  proved 
our  undoing,  and  brought  to  an  untimely  and 
undesired  end  our  delightful  occupation  of  Missenden 
Abbey.  It  was  in  this  wise.  It  seems  that  the 
Misburn,  the  little  stream  that  ran  through,  and  linked 
up  the  chain  of  lakelets,  had  a  nasty  habit  of  drying  up 


68  CHASING  AND   RACING 

every  seven  years,  because,  so  it  was  stated,  the  springs 
which  formed  its  source  in  the  Chiltern  Hills,  failed. 
These  springs  were  in  the  vicinity  of  Chequer's  Court, 
then  occupied  by  Mr.  (afterwards  Lord)  Lee  of  Fare- 
ham,  who  so  generously  bestowed  the  ancient  home  on 
the  nation,  to  serve  as  a  residence  for  Britain's  Prime 
Ministers.  Many  a  good  run  had  I  from  there  in 
after  days  with  the  O.B.H.  But  that  is  another  story. 
Well,  it  so  happened  that  the  periodical  drought  was 
due  toward  the  second  year  of  my  tenancy.  With  a 
punctuality  which  was  hardly  appreciated,  the  flow 
grew  less  and  less,  until  it  became  a  mere  dribble. 
Then  it  ceased  altogether ;  and  consequently,  the 
ponds  became  lower  and  lower,  and  the  water  so 
stagnant  that  the  fish  fell  sick  and  began  to  turn  on 
their  backs.  Anon  there  were  only  a  few  isolated  pools 
overcrowded  with  dying  trout.  The  stench  was 
becoming  unendurable  and  the  whole  place  rendered 
uninhabitable.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  An  applica- 
tion to  the  agent  of  the  owner  met  with  a  dilatory  and 
highly  unsatisfactory  response.  No  time  was  to  be 
lost.  I  wrote  to  the  Marlow  Angling  Association  to 
send  over  water  carts,  for  the  conveyance  of  surviving 
fish  to  the  Thames.  The  invitation  was  promptly 
accepted,  and  close  on  two  hundred  trout  were  released 
in  Marlow  weir  pool.  Then  we  packed  up  and 
emigrated,  bag  and  baggage.  But  we  were  not  to  be 
allowed  to  depart  in  peace.  A  writ  was  issued  claiming 
heavy  damages,  the  principal  item  being  the  value  of 


CHASING  AND   RACING  69 

fish  **  wrongfully  *'  taken  from  the  "  water  "  (save  the 
mark  1)  and  "  improperly  '*  placed  in  the  Thames. 
When  the  case  came  into  court  I  paid  in  what  I  con- 
sidered to  be  a  fair  compromise,  arguing  that,  if  I  had 
left  the  fish  to  die,  it  would  not  only  have  been  a  cruel 
and  unsportsmanlike  proceeding,  but  might  well  have 
caused  a  dangerous  epidemic  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
that,  as  it  was,  we  had  been  deprived  of  reasonable  and 
undisturbed  occupation.  The  answer  was  that  the 
drying  up  of  the  Misburn  was  due  to  "  the  hand  of 
God,''  and  that  the  owner  was  therefore  not  responsible. 

Then  I  played  my  trump  card.  Cross-examination 
of  the  plaintiff  elicited  the  admission  that  the  peculiar 
habit  of  the  stream  of  drying  up  every  seven  years  was 
a  known  and  well-recognized  fact  ;  that  such  drought 
was  due  in  the  middle  of  my  tenancy  was  obvious,  but 
that  I  had  not  been  warned  by  either  the  said  plaintiff 
or  his  accredited  agent.  Then  the  learned  judge  took 
a  hand  in  the  game  and  strongly  advised  my  adversary's 
counsel  to  take,  on  behalf  of  his  client,  that  which  I  had 
magnanimously  paid  into  court  whilst  he  could  get  it  ; 
adding  that,  in  his  lordship's  opinion,  plaintiff  must 
be  accounted  uncommonly  lucky  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  so  doing. 

This  was  a  woeful  ending  to  a  really  glorious  time. 
There  had  been  always  something  doing  at  the  Abbey  ; 
hunting,  shooting,  fishing,  dog  breeding,  breaking  and 
exhibiting  ;  crowds  of  good  sportsmen  as  guests, 
village  entertainments,  dramatic  and  otherwise  ;   hunt 


70  CHASING  AND  RACING 

suppers  and  elaborate  practical  jokes  of  a  highly  enter- 
taining but  harmless  nature. 

Several  young  couples,  meeting  for  the  first  time 
under  our  roof,  became  mutually  enamoured,  and 
either  sought  the  altar,  where  they  were  condemned  to 
bondage  until  death  or  the  Divorce  Court  should 
release  them,  or  until  one  or  other  of  the  betrothed 
found  that  their  choice  of  the  moment  was  but  a  will 
o'  the  wisp — the  empty  shade  of  an  ideal — which  had 
subsequently  melted  into  nothingness  ;  and  so  pulled 
up  and  unhitched  just  in  time  ! 

I  have  mentioned  that  during  my  third  season  as 
Master  of  the  M.  and  H.V.H.  hares  had  been  so  scarce 
that  I  was  in  despair  ;  consequently,  after  much  heart- 
burning, I  made  up  my  mind  to  allow  the  Hunt  to 
lapse. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Austen  Mackenzie  of 
Taplow  Court,  Henley,  having  been  offered  the  Wood- 
land Pytchly,  sent  in  his  resignation  as  Master  of  the 
O.B.H.  (West).  At  the  same  time  Mr.  Longman, 
who  had,  for  many  seasons,  hunted  the  East  Division 
of  the  country,  unhappily  found  his  eyesight  failing 
him  ;  so  he,  too,  announced  to  his  committee  that  he 
would  not  carry  on  after  the  close  of  the  season.  Now 
it  so  happened  that  one  of  the  best  friends  I  ever  had 
was  **  Fred  *'  Burbidge,  whom  we  dubbed  "  Uncle 
Punch,"  because  of  his  supposed  resemblance  (in  face 
only)  to  that  hump-backed  humorist.  He  and  his 
wife  resided  at  Micklefield,  near  Chorleywood.     I  had 


CHASING  AND   RACING  71 

become  acquainted  with  him  when,  just  after  I  had 
come  down  from  Trinity,  I  inaugurated  the  Fox 
Terrier  Club  ;  for  he  was  an  enthusiastic  breeder  and 
exhibitor  of  this  most  charming  of  the  smaller  canine 
breeds.  Later  on  I  hope  to  have  something  to  say 
about  this  industry  and  pleasant  hobby,  but  I  am  now 
on  the  hunting  lay  ;  though  it  is  convenient  here  and 
now  to  remind  all  and  sundry  that  Fred  Burbidge  was 
one  of  the  very  best  all  round  "  sports  "  of  "  the  old 
brigade."  He  was  a  member  of  the  early  "  All 
England  Cricket  XI,"  and  could  hold  his  own  at  any 
game.  As  a  boxer,  he  was  practically  supreme  at  his 
weight — that  which  is  now  styled  **  light  heavy,"  or 
perhaps  "  cruiser  " — and  was  a  skilled  cuest.  He  and 
"  Aunty  Emmy,"  his  better  half — an  accomplished 
horsewoman,  though  somewhat  handicapped  by  rheu- 
matoid arthritis — often  patronized  the  M.  and  H.V.H., 
and  he  it  was  who  now  approached  the  committees  of 
the  two  O.B.H.  divisions  with  the  suggestion  that 
they  should  amalgamate,  and  that  the  mastership  of 
the  whole  country  should  be  offered  to  my  unworthy 
self. 

A  meeting  was  convened  at  the  Euston  Hotel, 
which  I  was  invited  to  attend.  A  long  conference  was 
held,  the  while  I  cooled  my  heels  in  the  passage.  At 
last  **  Uncle  Punch,"  who  held  an  unofficial  brief  on 
my  behalf,  came  out. 

**  Cockie,"  he  began,  **  the  committee  wants  to 
know  whether,  in  the  case  of  its  deciding  to  offer  you 


72  CHASING  AND  RACING 

the    Mastership,    you    propose    to    carry    the    horn 
yourself  ?  ** 

"  Why,  of  course,"  I  replied;  **  that  is  the  beginning 
and   end   of    my   ambition,   a   brass-bound    sine   qua 


non,^^ 


n 
n 


Do  you  want  to  be  a  really  popular  Master  ?  *' 
Why,  certainly  !  " 

"  Then,  my  Cockie,  if  you  will  take  my  advice  you 
will  employ  a  professional  huntsman." 

**  Nothing  doing,  uncle  !  I  would  as  soon  allow  a 
servant  to  handle  my  hounds  as  a  keeper  to  shoot  my 
pheasants  or  a  gillie  to  play  and  land  my  salmon." 

"  Is  that  what  I  am  to  tell  the  committee  ?  If  so, 
old  chap,  I  am  afraid  they  will  turn  you  down." 

"  Let  them,"  I  said.  **  I  have  no  desire  whatever 
for  the  social  kudos  which  attaches  to  the  M.F.H.  I 
am  out  to  show  sport  and  incidentally  to  enjoy  it 
myself.  I  have  served  a  useful  apprenticeship  with  the 
"jelly  dogs,"  and  I  flatter  myself  I  have  enough  brains 
and  initiative  to  tackle  the  other  game.  I  know  that  I 
have  much  to  learn,  and  that  it  will  take  time  before 
I  am  really  efficient  ;  but  I  tell  you  what.  Uncle 
Punch,  tell  them  that  I  am  willing  to  engage  a  pro- 
fessional to  act  as  kennel  huntsman  and  to  ride  in  my 
pocket  until  I  feel  my  feet,  so  to  speak.  If  the  com- 
mittee will  accept  this  compromise  I  am  content, 
otherwise  it's  all  off  !  " 

And  they  did  accept.  For  why  ?  They  were 
cornered  and  had  no  other  card  up  their  sleeve. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  73 

And  now  came  the  problem  of  the  pack.  It  is 
true  that  Mr.  Longman  was  willing  to  sell  his  little  lot 
en  bloc ;  but  from  what  I  had  seen  of  them  I  was  not 
greatly  impressed.  Moreover,  I  considered  the  figure 
quoted  to  be  much  too  inflated.  Austen  Mackenzie 
was  taking  his  pack  with  him  to  Brigstock,  where,  some 
time  previously,  I  had  spent  happy  days  with  Lord 
Lonsdale  and  his  sporting  friends  and  relatives  when 
he  was  hunting  the  Woodland  Pytchley  country.  The 
Lowther  family  is  linked  up  with  the  de  Fonblanques — 
my  mother  was  a  daughter  of  the  judge  of  that  ilk — by 
marriage  ;  but  I  became  acquainted  with  the  ubiqui- 
tous and  popular  Earl  through  our  mutual  love  of  a 
good  terrier.  At  Lowther  Castle  a  famous  old  strain 
had  been  fostered  for  generations  ;  but  through  "  in 
breeding,"  or  some  other  cause,  it  had  deteriorated. 
His  lordship,  having  heard  that  I  was  something  of  an 
expert  in  this  line,  wrote  me  an  interesting  letter  telling 
me  all  about  his  strain,  and  asking  my  advice  as  to  its 
regeneration  and  betterment  ;  whereupon  I  offered  to 
send  him,  to  Brigstock,  a  coupled  of  stud  dogs  which 
could  be  used  as  occasion  might  require.  An  invita- 
tion to  visit  the  hunting  box  followed,  and  a  very  happy 
and  interesting  time  I  had  of  it.  The  Earl  had 
married  Lady  Grace  Gordon,  sister  of  the  then  Marquis 
of  Huntley.  She  was  a  sporting  enthusiast,  and  so 
were  her  sisters.  Lady  Maggie  Gore,  Lady  Elena 
Wickham,  Lady  Ethel  Wickham,  and  their  respective 
husbands  ;    whilst    her    brothers,  Lords    Esme  and 


74  CHASING  AND   RACING 

Granville  Gordon,  were  heanx  gargons^  and  good  all 
round  sportsmen. 

What  Hugh  Lonsdale  does  not  know  about  fox- 
hounds and  the  breeding  and  hunting  thereof  is,  to  use 
a  vulgarism,  not  worth  knowing.  For  hours  after  the 
others  had  retired  to  rest  I  would,  metaphorically 
speaking,  sit  at  his  feet  garnering  knowledge,  which 
later  on  served  me  in  good  stead.  So  it  was  from  my 
noble  friend  that  I  sought  advice  when  the  question  of 
acquiring  a  pack  to  hunt  the  O.B.H.  country  arose. 
My  appeal  met  with  a  ready  response  ;  for  when  we 
met,  he  informed  me  that  he  had  arranged  with  Mr. 
(afterwards  Viscount)  Chaplin  to  lend  me  his  Blankney 
hounds.  This  was  indeed  a  godsend  !  I  called  on 
the  Minister  of  Agriculture  that  was  to  be  at  Suther- 
land House,  St.  James',  which  had  been  lent  him  by 
his  brother-in-law,  the  Duke.  I  was  received  in  the 
kindest  manner,  and  the  Squire  of  Blankney  gave  me 
details  and  many  useful  hints  as  to  the  merits  of  the 
hounds  and  the  lines  on  which  he  had  gone  in  breeding 
them.  It  seems  that  my  friend  Lonsdale  had  taken 
unto  himself  the  pick  of  the  bitch  pack,  but  there  were 
some  useful  hounds  in  the  mixed  lot  left  over  ;  quite 
sufficient  for  my  purposes,  and  forming  a  nucleus  from 
which,  with  various  couples  picked  up  at  auction,  would 
enable  me  to  get  together  a  level  pack  in  the  course  of 
time.  The  young  dog  entry,  which  his  lordship  had 
not  touched,  contained  some  first-class  hounds,  bred 
from  Belvoir  and  Broklesby  strains,  judiciously  blended 


CHASING  AND   RACING  75 

with  the  blood  of  Lord  Portsmouth's  Sailor.  All  this 
took  place  during  my  last  summer  at  Missenden 
Abbey.  Then  another  problem  presented  itself.  What 
kennels  were  available  ?  This  was  solved  by  the 
kindness  of  Lord  Carrington  of  Wycombe  Abbey,  who 
placed  at  my  disposal  those  which  had  long  fallen  into 
disuse,  but  which  were  in  tolerable  repair,  and 
situated  close  to  his  lordship's  stables.  So  now  I  was 
fairly  fixed  up  and  launched  upon  the  duties  and 
responsibilities  which  I  had  so  lightly  shouldered. 
Another  piece  of  luck  came  my  way,  as  Lord  Chesham 
of  Latimer,  the  Master  of  the  Bicester,  passed  on  to  me 
his  kennel  huntsman,  William  Wilson,  who  proved  a 
perfect  treasure,  and  a  mentor  on  whose  advice  I  could 
always  implicitly  rely. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  cubbing  season  proved  an  excellent 
apprenticeship,  enabling  me  to  become 
familiar  with  the  country  and  to  bring  the 
hounds  to  hand  in  workmanlike  fashion. 
This  last  I  found  a  labour  of  love,  for  I  have  always 
flattered  myself  that  a  mutual  understanding  exists 
between  the  canine  race  and  myself.  I  was  assiduous 
in  my  attention  to  kennel  work,  and  soon  became  on 
most  affectionate  terms  with  its  inmates  ;  so  that  when 
the  regular  season  opened  I  was  able  to  make  a  very 
decent  showing,  as  amateur  huntsmen  go  ;  though 
there  were  not  wanting  those  who,  possessing  voices 
out  of  all  proportion  to  their  knowledge  and  experience, 
voted  me  slow,  and  put  down  the  alleged  fault  to  the 
influence  of  my  hare-hunting  amenities.  But  I  took  no 
heed  and  "  ganged  my  gait  "  gaily  enough.  My  game 
was,  and  always  has  been,  to  hunt  my  quarry,  be  it  fox 
or  hare,  fairly  and  squarely,  and  not  to  lift  my  hounds, 
simply  for  the  purpose  of  affording  my  followers  a 
spurious  race  over  the  country. 

About  this  time,  the  time-honoured  Curraghmore 

pack,  hunted  by  the  late  Lord  Waterford,  came  under 

76 


CHASING  AND  RACING  77 

the  hammer.  I  managed  to  secure  three  and  a  half 
couples  of  the  glorious  bitches.  Blanche,  Lady  Water- 
ford  had  long  been  disabled  from  hunting,  but  her 
interest  in  the  celebrated  pack  never  waned,  and  it  was 
a  sad  day,  as  she  informed  me,  when  it  was  dispersed. 
She  wrote  me  a  charming  letter  entering  into  minute 
details  concerning  each  bitch  that  had  so  fortunately 
come  into  my  possession  ;  heartening  me  by  her 
congratulations  on  my  having  secured  the  flower  of 
the  pack.  Indeed,  these  bitches  proved  of  inestimable 
value,  not  only  in  the  field,  but  in  the  harem.  It  is 
generally  agreed  that  it  takes  even  a  knowledgeable 
houndman  at  least  seven  years  to  produce  a  good  and 
level  pack  from  draft  stock,  however  well  bred  ;  but 
at  the  end  of  my  third  season  it  was  freely 
admitted,  by  some  of  the  shrewdest  houndsmen  and 
huntsmen  in  the  kingdom,  that  I  had  got  together 
as  smart  a  little  lot  as  any  enthusiast  might  wish  to 
follow. 

The  combined  divisions  of  the  Hunt  which  I  had 
taken  over  presented  physical  features  of  great  variety  ; 
consequently  a  distinct  type  of  hound  was  required  for 
each.  To  meet  the  situation  I  divided  my  hounds  into 
three  sections,  (i)  The  big  dog  hounds  ;  (2)  the  big 
bitches  and  smaller  dog  hounds  mixed ;  and  (3)  the 
little  bitches  ;  sometimes  drawing  from  the  tally  of 
each,  hounds  which  were  of  approximate  inches  to  the 
larger  or  smaller  ones,  as  the  case  might  be,  in  the 
other  sections.     Thus  I  found  that  the  big  dog  hounds 


78  CHASING  AND   RACING 

were  the  most  suitable  to  the  great,  straggHng  woodlands 
of  the  West.  They  were  steadier  and  would  be  always 
nosing  forward  without  faltering  ;  whereas  the  little 
bitches  were  more  flashy,  and  unless  they  had  a  very 
strong  and  straight  line,  would  appear  to  be  all  at  sea, 
and  would  hang  about,  waiting  for  me  to  take  them  in 
hand  or  to  a  view  halloa  in  the  open.  On  the  other 
hand,  get  them  away  on  fair  terms  with  their  fox,  over 
a  nice  piece  of  grass,  or  scent-holding  ploughed  land, 
and  it  was  a  case  of  "  catch  'em  if  you  can  !  '*  They 
were  brilliant  in  the  extreme,  and  if  in  difficulties, 
Wedlock,  Speedy,  Beauty,  Blossom,  Rhoda,  or 
other  of  the  **  stars  '*  would  soon  put  the  rest 
right. 

The  mixed  pack,  with  the  interchangeable  hounds 
of  both  sexes,  were  for  general  utility.  For  instance, 
whenever  I  drew  "  Dear  old  Bricket  " — some  called 
this  Wilderness  of  Wonder  by  a  less  affectionate 
adjective,  also  beginning  with  D — this  was  the  lot 
drawn.  This  same  Bricket  Wood  is  a  haunting 
obsession,  at  once  a  Mecca  and  a  Hades.  It  is  of  great 
extent,  and  acres  of  it  are  quite  impenetrable  for  a 
horse.  One  thing  in  its  favour  was  the  fact  that  a  fox 
could  always  be  found  there,  but  when  set  on  foot,  the 
question  as  to  whether  he  would  be  driven  out  was 
highly  problematical.  Moreover,  these  local  "  red 
skins  "  were  given  to  indulging  in  a  game,  evidently 
diverting  to  themselves,  but  apt  to  make  any  huntsman 
feel   utterly   fed    up  and   weary   of  life.      The  joke 


CHASING  AND  RACING  79 

consisted  in  the  humorist  "  going  away  '*  in  a  grand  style 
over  a  twenty-acre  field.  On  reaching  its  limits  he 
would  slip  along  at  right  angles  and  return  by  the  side 
hedge  to  covert.  I  have  had  this  trick  served  on  me 
time  after  time,  although  there  had  been  no  question 
of  the  wily  brute  having  been  headed.  He  was  always 
given  a  fair  field  and  no  favour.  I  tried  placing 
**  stops  '*  or  outposts  close  to  the  covert,  on  either  side  of 
the  open  space  ;  but  the  red  rover  would  simply  slip 
by  them  with  a  derisive  whisk  of  his  brush  and  re-enter 
the  tangle.  The  original  comedian  must  have  im- 
parted this  merry  jest  to  his  descendants,  for  all  the 
Bricket  foxes  seemed  to  know  and  enjoy  its  exploita- 
tion. I  never  remember  to  have  had  a  good  run  from 
this  woodland  labyrinth  ;  but  often — when  late  in  the 
season  I  had  drawn  covert  after  covert  blank — I  would 
catch  hold  of  hounds  and  trot  them  off  to  Bricket, 
simply  for  the  joy  of  hearing  the  crashing  chorus  of  a 
find  and  the  inspiriting  tones  of  Tom  Goddard's 
**  holler  ''  ;  though  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  this 
little  episode  would  prove  the  beginning  and  end  of  the 
day*s  sport. 

Hunting  the  whole  of  the  O.B.H.  country  five 
days  a  fortnight,  with  frequent  by-days,  was  a  tall 
order  and  a  costly  one  ;  but  I  was  as  keen  as  mustard 
on  the  job  and  perfectly  happy,  despite  the  adverse 
criticism  of  captious  critics  such  as  unfortunately 
infest  every  hunt  ;  for  I  had  many  good  friends  and 
true,  ever  ready  to  support  and  encourage  me.     Here, 


8o  CHASING  AND   RACING 

for  instance,  is  an  example  of  the  illogical  and  ignorant 
argument  of  a  certain  noble  lord. 

"  Oh,  yes,'*  he  told  a  visitor  from  "  the  Shires  ;  " 
**  ours  (the  hounds  were  then  my  own  particular 
property)  is  a  really  splendid  pack,  but  our  master  is  no 
huntsman.*' 

He  received  a  severe  snub  ;  for  the  said  visitor, 
who  had  forgotten  more  than  his  lordship  ever  knew 
about  hounds  and  the  art  of  hunting,  replied — 

*'  That  can  hardly  be,  my  lord  !  A  bad  huntsman 
cannot  make  a  good -pack  !  " 

Now  this  stranger  from  "  the  Shires  "  was — who 
do  you  think  }  None  other  than  the  redoubtable  Tom 
Firr,  who,  with  Frank  Gillard  of  the  Belvoir,  had  judged 
my  puppy  show  during  the  previous  summer.  Am  I 
not  justified  in  wearing  this  feather  in  my  cap  } 
Especially  since  it  was  supplemented,  the  following 
year,  when  Lord  Chesham  and  his  relative.  Lord 
Valentia  (then  master,  if  I  remember  rightly,  of 
the  South  Oxfordshire),  took  a  busman's  holiday 
with  the  O.B.H.,  together  with  the  said  Tom 
Firr.  His  Lordship  of  Latimer,  after  a  real  smart 
run,  accompanied  me  and  the  hounds  back  to 
kennel. 

"  Cox,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to  make  you 
blush." 

"  How,  Lord  Chesham  ?  "  I  asked,  adding,  "  I  am 
afraid  I  am  past  such  a  weakness — fire  ahead  !  " 

Some  of  your  *  dear  friends  '  have  been  sneering 


i( 


CHASING  AND  RACING  8i 

at,  and  crabbing  you  to  me  ;  so  I  asked  Tom  Firr  what 
he  thought  of  your  performance.  His  reply  was,  *  I 
have  never  seen  hounds  better  hunted.*  There  ! 
what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  May  I  remark  that  I 
heartily  endorse  his  opinion  ?  '* 

Vanity  and  colossal  conceit  of  me  to  publish  this, 
you  will  say  !  I  don*t  care  !  I  have  reason  to  be 
proud  of  the  pronouncement  ;  especially  in  view  of 
the  persistent  way  in  which  some  of  my  followers 
(members  of  the  committee,  too,  who  should  have 
known  better)  belittled  my  efforts  from  the  very 
commencement  of  my  mastership. 

I  should  not  have  known  what  was  going  on  behind 
my  back  had  it  not  been  for  the  invaluable  information 
conveyed  by  the  rede  btable  Ted,  who  not  only 
relieved  me  of  the  clerical,  financial,  and  managerial 
duties  attaching  to  my  office,  but  also  acted  as  Field 
Master,  a  position  which  was  by  no  manner  of  means 
a  sinecure  ;  for  at  times  I  was  hampered  by  very 
plethoric  and  unruly  fields,  apt  to  over-ride  hounds, 
foil  the  line,  head  the  fox,  and  make  themselves 
generally  objectionable.  But  Ted  was  a  solid  stand 
by  and  managed — by  firmness  tempered  with  tact — 
to  keep  them  in  something  like  order,  so  that  I  was 
able  to  concentrate  on  my  hound  work,  and  my  one 
objective,  viz.  the  legitimate  hunting  of  and  accounting 
for  "  Joshua." 

But,  even  so,  my  task  would  have  been  a  particu- 
larly   puzzling   and    arduous    one   (for   the    physical 


82  CHASING  AND   RACING 

peculiarities  and  varieties  of  the  huge  country  rendered 
it  one  which  took  an  infinity  of  "  knowing  ")  had  I 
not  had  the  constant  and  thoroughly  sportsmanlike 
guidance  and  advice  of  Bob  Webber,  of  Croxley  Green 
(who  succeeded  me  as  M.O.B.H.),  for  he  knew  every 
inch  of  the  country,  the  normal  run  of  the  foxes,  and 
where,  and  under  what  circumstances,  they  were 
likely  to  be  "  At  home  ''  to  my  call.  Bob  was  a  heavy 
weight,  and  therefore  not  one  of  the  flying  division  ; 
but  he  was  always  there,  or  thereabouts.  Huntsmen 
as  a  rule  dislike  any  particular  individual  who  per- 
sistently rides  in  their  pocket  ;  but  I  not  only  en- 
couraged Bob  to  do  so,  but  was  unfeignedly  thankful 
and  grateful  for  the  fact.  He  was  an  enthusiastic 
hound  man,  as  distinguished  from  a  rider  to  hounds, 
for  he  was  a  constant  visitor  to  the  kennels,  and  took 
as  much  interest  in  what  I  may  call  the  personality 
of  each  unit  of  the  pack  as  I  did,  which  is  saying 
a  lot. 

I  have  noticed  that  not  one  in  ten  who  poses  as 
a  hunting  man  knows  one  hound  from  another, 
or  cares  a  tinker's  curse  about  them,  so  long  as, 
jointly  considered,  they  can  furnish  a  bright  run  in 
which  he  can  display  his  horsemanship  for  the  benefit 
of  the  admiring  fair,  or  the  envious  hatred  of  male 
rivals. 

If  only  those  who  patronize  a  particular  hunt 
would  devote  a  reasonable  portion  of  their  time  to 
visiting  the  kennels  during  the  summer,  and  becoming 


CHASING  AND  RACING  83 

acquainted  with  the  inmates,  they  would  find  their 
enjoyment  of  the  game  more  than  doubled,  when  the 
season  begins  ;  especially  if  they  have  been  cubbing 
during  the  educational  phase,  and  have  noticed  the 
progress  of  the  young  entry. 

Others  who  were  real  sportsmen  and  sports- 
women— besides  my  own  domestic  crowd,  **  Uncle 
Punch  '*  and  "  Auntie  Emmy  *' — were  the  brothers 
Clutterbuck,  J.  B.  Cowley,  "  Jimmy  Woods  "  (a  young 
farmer,  with  an  equally  charming  wife,  one  of  the  very 
best,  a  thorough  sportsman  and  a  perfect  specimen  of 
Nature*s  gentlemen),  and  George  Gurney,  a  Silver 
Ring  penciller,  to  whom  I  have  already  paid  tribute 
in  my  pony  racing  reminiscences. 

Mention  of  this  excellent  sportsman  recalls  an 
incident  which  had  escaped  my  memory  when  setting 
forth  my  pony  racing  experiences.  It  was  by  no 
means  a  heroic  episode.  The  scene  is  laid  at  Wye.  I 
had  ridden  one  of  my  string  to  victory  and  was  all 
cock-a-hoop  ;  so  when  a  certain  owner  asked  me  to 
ride  a  pony  of  his  (called  Miss  Westbourne)  in  a 
subsequent  race,  I  jumped  at  the  offer.  Happening 
to  meet  George  Gurney  I  told  him  of  my  projected 
ride.  "  Don't  you,  master  !  "  he  said.  "  She  is  a 
mad  brute,  and  will  give  you  a  rough  time  1  '*  (as 
indeed  she  did)  ;  but  I  scorned  to  funk  the  adventure, 
with  the  result  that,  after  finishing  a  poor  third,  I  was 
taken  twice  round  the  course  by  the  flighty  one  before 
I   could  pull  her  up.     The  Usher  and  Sarah  were 


84  CHASING  AND  RACING 

soft-mouthed  and  amiable  beasts  compared  with  Miss 
Westbourne. 

At  this  time  I  had  unrestricted  enjoyment  of  the 
excellent  fishing  on  the  Chess,  which  runs  through  the 
Latimer  demesne,  where  I  enjoyed  some  perfect  days 
and  evenings.  On  one  of  the  latter  I  had  something 
like  a  repetition  of  the  fishing  adventure  at  Missenden, 
as  recounted  in  an  earlier  chapter  ;  for  late  in  May  I 
discovered  a  run  at  the  foot  of  a  fall,  where  the  big 
fellows,  in  single  file,  procured  nightly  their  entymo- 
logical  rations.  It  was  a  case  of  "  One  landed,  t'other 
come  on  !  "  until  I  had  four  and  a  half  brace  of  beauties 
(not  one  of  which  was  under  2  lbs.)  laid  out  neatly  in  a 
row.  Here  again  **  the  coachman  **  proved  what  a 
deadly  fly  it  is,  of  a  late  spring  or  early  summer  evening, 
after  sunset. 

The  shooting  was  not  so  good,  but  it  was  a  pleasant 
interlude  on  off  days,  and  we  generally  managed  to 
make  a  respectable  mixed  bag.  But  the  best  of  sport 
with  the  gun  was  that  which  I  enjoyed  on  the  extensive 
farm  of  the  before-mentioned  "  Jimmy  "  Woods  ;  for  it 
was  well  stocked  with  the  little  brown  birds,  and  as 
Jimmy  and  his  other  friends  were  deadly  shots,  our  tally 
was  a  very  satisfactory  one. 

I  had  one  or  two  good  days  with  the  Drakes  at 
Shardeloes.  Here  I  was  up  against  a  very  deadly 
wielder  of  the  gun  in  the  person  of  the  rector  of 
Amersham,  a  sporting  parson  of  the  old  school,  the 
Rev.  Edward  Drake,  to  wit,  who  made  a  name  for 


CHASING  AND   RACING  85 

himself  and  the  Church  by  riding  in  the  Grand 
National  and  completing  the  course,  under  the  assumed 
name  of  Mr.  Ekard,  which  nom  de  course  resolves  itself 
into  the  simple  expedient  of  spelling  his  rightful 
patronymic  backwards.  He  was  a  brother  of  the  then 
reigning  "  House  of  Shardeloes,"  and  like  all  of  the 
clan,  was  inclined  to  be  somewhat  dour  and  reserved  ; 
except  in  his  language  in  the  fields  of  sport,  which  was 
apt  to  be  anything  but  clerical  ;  but  he  had  a  touch  of 
dry  and  caustic  humour,  which  was  very  effective  in 
checking  the  exuberance  of  irresponsible  youth.  His 
cousin  "  Mutey,'*  so-called  because  he  had  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  India  Mutiny,  was  of  a  far  more 
jovial  and  genial  disposition,  and  he  and  I  fore- 
gathered most  pleasantly.  When  finally  I  resigned 
the  O.B.H.  country  it  was  again  divided  into  its 
original  sections.  East  and  West  ;  Bob  Webber 
taking  the  former  and  Capt.  **  Mutey  '*  Drake  the 
latter. 

To  return  to  **  The  Rector.**  First  time  we  met 
in  the  stubbles  and  roots  he  had  evidently  made  up  his 
mind  to  take  my  number  down,  for  he  had  heard  of  my 
triumphs  at  the  traps  and  wanted  to  show  that  such 
shooting  was  of  the  tricky  order,  and  that  an  Ai  game 
shot  would  always  assert  superiority.  As  he  un- 
doubtedly belonged  to  the  latter  category  his  theory 
only  remained  to  be  proved.  Well,  it  was  a  close 
thing  ;  but  it  gave  him  furiously  to  think  when,  to 
commence  with,  a  bit  of  rough  stuff  where  birds  could 


86  CHASING  AND  RACING 

not  be  walked  up  was  driven.  They  came  over  at 
top  speed,  down  wind  and  very  high.  By  a  lucky 
fluke  I  accomplished  a  startling  right  and  left.  (I  say 
**  lucky  fluke/*  because  I  have  always  considered  that 
driven  partridges  show  up  my  weakest  spot.) 
Sometimes  I  was  almost  brilliant  ;  at  others,  after 
mufling  my  first  shot,  I  would  become  demoralized  ; 
begin  **  poking "  at  my  birds  and  appearing  an 
absolute  "  wash  out.'*  But  this  was  indeed  a  pleasant 
start.  I  was  so  bucked  up  that  I  was  well  on  the  spot 
all  day,  and  at  the  end,  topped  the  Rev.  Edward's  score 
by  one  and  a  half  brace  !  It  was  **  some  "  shooting  I 
can  tell  you  ;  for  neither  of  us  let  many  opportunities 
pass.  All  his  Reverence  said  at  the  count  was,  "  Yes, 
you  can  shoot,  I  give  you  best  !  " 

The  Squire  had  three  grown-up  sons.  All  inherited 
the  family  love  of  sport.  At  Shardeloes  there  was  an 
extensive  lake  which  held  leviathan  pike  and  other 
hefty  specimens  of  the  finny  tribe.  I  had  leave  to  fish 
whenever  I  cared  to  ask  ;  but  was  never  lucky  enough 
to  have  a  real  good  day  with  Esox  lucius  ;  the  biggest 
that  ever  fell  to  my  rod  in  those  waters  being  an  un- 
considered trifle  of  6|  lbs.,  which  happened,  by  the 
way,  to  be  the  exact  weight  of  the  largest  trout  taken  at 
Missenden  Abbey,  the  lucky  angler  in  that  case  being 
my  younger  brother-in-law,  Ronald  Barlow,  who  was 
very  keen  on  the  sport. 

The  Shardeloes  lake  was  fed,  as  were  the  Abbey 
pools,  by  the  Misburn,  and  might  have  teemed  with 


CHASING  AND  RACING  87 

heavy  trout  had  the  pike  been  removed  and  the  whole 
cleared  of  noxious  weeds  and  the  deep  mud  which  had 
silted  to  such  an  extent  that  the  surface  water  was 
reduced  to  less  than  a  third  of  its  normal  area,  forming 
a  morass,  heavily  overgrown  with  rushes,  which  proved 
most  attractive  to  wild  fowl  of  many  varieties.  Here, 
also,  was  a  sure  draw  for  Mr.  Reynard.  Many  a  one 
have  my  beauties  chevied  therefrom  to  the  big  woods 
which  unfortunately  were  far  too  handy.  I  seldom 
killed  a  fox  found  in  the  Shardeloes  marsh.  At  the 
commencement  of  my  second  season,  that  accursed 
plague,  mange,  broke  out  among  the  foxes  of  the  near 
West  and  far  East  of  the  country,  and  it  soon  became 
evident  that  drastic  measures  must  be  taken  if  the 
trouble  was  to  be  successfully  tackled.  A  great  many 
afflicted  cubs  were  chopped  during  the  educational 
period,  but  hounds  showed  no  inclination  to  break  up 
their  victims  even  had  they  been  allowed  to  do  so, 
which  naturally  they  were  not.  Others,  marked  to 
ground,  were  dug  out  and  an  end  put  to  their  misery  ; 
though  by  way  of  experiment  I  bagged  a  well-grown 
dog  cub  which  seemed  less  afflicted  than  some,  gave 
him  a  liberal  dressing  of  paraffin,  Stockholm  tar,  and 
black  sulphur,  and  turned  him  back  in  his  earth  with 
the  idea  that  he  would  thus  disinfect  it.  Perhaps  he 
did  so  ;  but  as  it  was  never  again  used  by  any  of 
his  tribe,  though  formerly  a  favourite  refuge,  my 
brain  wave  did  not  pan  out  as  well  as  might  be 
expected. 


88  CHASING  AND  RACING 

One  day  we  got  among  a  litter  in  a  large  covert, 
every  one  of  which  was  a  pitiable  sight  to  behold.  A 
brace  was  quickly  "  done  in,**  and  then  I  viewed  a 
miserable  little  wretch  as  he  crawled  into  a  woodstack. 
I  touched  my  horn,  and  when  Jack  Westrup  came  up 
with  the  terriers,  I  told  him  to  let  Damon  and  Pythias, 
two  of  iny  most  punishing  *'  wire  hairs,'*  have  a  go, 
knowing  that  this  would  settle  the  poor  cub  in  two 
shakes  of  a  duck's  tail  ;  but  like  the  assembled  hounds 
they  did  not  seem  anxious  for  the  job.  One  of  the 
field,  who  always  had  a  fatuous  opinion  to  air,  expressed 
it  as  his  belief  that  it  was  a  rabbit  that  had  entered  the 
woodstack. 

**  Not  a  bit  of  it,'*  I  said.  "  I  viewed  him  in 
myself.  It  was  a  cub  right  enough,  and  a  d — d 
mangy  one  at  that.  Why,  he  had  not  a  hair  on  his 
tail  1  ** 

**  Tail  ?  *'  Ah,  thought  my  friend  the  enemy,  I 
have  him  on  the  hop. 

"  Oh,  Master  I  "  he  exclaimed,  looking  round  at 
the  congregation  in  anticipation  of  triumph.  **  Tail  ! 
fancy  you  backsliding  like  that  !  I  did  not  know  that 
foxes  ever  owned  tails ^ 

"  Oh,  there  are  exceptions,**  I  answered  uncon- 
cernedly. "  This  one  is  a  case  in  point.  As  the  poor 
brute  has  not  a  hair  on  his  caudal  appendage,  it  could 
not  by  any  stretch  of  imagination  be  termed  a  brushy 

Great  applause  from  the  throng,  and  the  funny  one 
completely  disgruntled. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  89 

It  was  not  long  before  I  discovered  the  source  of 
the  plague.  A  certain  covert  owner,  whose  affections 
were  more  centred  on  pheasants  than  on  foxes,  had 
instructed  his  keeper  to  dig  up  a  Htter  of  cubs  and  to 
rear  them  in  captivity  until  required.  Such  a  requisi- 
tion being  their  transfer,  in  a  bag,  to  an  outlying 
covert  (where  there  were  no  pheasants,  no  rabbits,  and 
no  undergrowth,  and,  consequently,  no  foxes  in  statu 
natura\  what  time  I  had  fixed  a  meet  in  the  vicinity. 
Now  this  keeper's  idea  of  fostering  fox  cubs  was  to 
enclose  them  in  a  covered-in  pig-sty,  to  throw  them  the 
decaying  legs  of  horses  or  cattle  that  had  succumbed  to 
disease,  and  never  by  any  chance  to  clean  out  their 
improvized  den.  Finding  them  minus  their  natural 
covering  and  almost  in  extremis  he  liberated  them. 
**  Hinc  nice  lachrym^r 

Faith,  a  M.F.H.  has  much  to  contend  with  !  Of 
course  this  temporary  check  to  what,  until  then,  had 
been  such  sport  as  had  not  been  enjoyed  in  the  old 
country  since  the  halcyon  days  of  Harvey  Coombe, 
brought  all  sorts  of  abuse  on  my  devoted  head.  Some 
went  so  far  as  to  say  that  I  had  secretly  imported  mangy 
cubs  from  other  hunting  countries  and  so  brought 
about  the  disaster.  Colour  was  given  to  this  libel 
because,  when  I  had  accounted  for  all  foxes  in  the 
localities  affected,  and  had  dynamited  their  earths,  I 
did  import  some  very  fine  and  healthy  vixens  from  the 
non-hunting  wilds  of  Wales  and  Scotland,  knowing 
that  wherever  each  should  draw  her  own  habitation,  a 


90  CHASING  AND  RACING 

clean,  outlying  dog-fox  would  be  sure  to  come  a- 
courting.  And  so  it  turned  out.  The  result  was 
eminently  satisfactory,  for  the  following  season  saw 
us  with  a  particularly  lively  and  straight-necked 
stock  of  red  rovers. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  this  outbreak  of 
mange  put  a  stop  to  hunting,  though  we  had 
to  go  further  afield  for  our  sport  ;  but  the 
coverts  were  so  large — by  the  way,  the  original 
limits  of  the  O.B.H.  were  bounded  by  Hyde  Park 
Corner  and  Cheltenham — that  there  was  ample  scope 
for  sportive  investigation.  Outlying  foxes  in  the 
Aylesbury  and  similar  remote  districts  were  **  spotted  " 
and  located  by  Jack  Westrup  and  other  experts.  A 
by-day  would  be  improvised,  and  occasionally,  we 
had  some  topping  runs  with  the  vagrants  ;  though, 
of  course,  we  had  some  occasional  blanks,  with  no 
**  safe  find  "  to  fall  back  upon. 

One  of  the  great  blessings  of  these  minor  expedi- 
tions was  that  fields  were,  if  select,  decidedly  small. 
All  **  the  boys  "  of  our  own  crowd  had  "  the  ofiice,'* 
and  religiously  attended.  Good  sportsmen  and  straight 
riders,  who  saw  to  it  that  foxhounds,  and  even  I,  had 
fair  play. 

One  of  these  enterprises  provided  perhaps  the  best 
and  most  exciting  run  I  ever  had  with  hounds.  Peter 
Chutterbuck  had  sent  word  to  me  that  an  old  dog  fo  x 
had  taken  up  his  quarters  in  the  fastnesses  of  Stanm  ore 

91 


92  CHASING  AND   RACING 

Common.  Already  we  had  had  several  good  runs 
from  this  rather  suburban  gorse,  and  twice  we  had  been 
laughed  at  by  probably  the  same  old  dodger,  but  on 
the  last  occasion  I  had  tumbled  to  his  tactics  and  was 
now  prepared  to  counter  them.  Ted  sent  out  private 
notices  of  a  by-day  to  all  the  genuine  crowd  ;  but  not 
a  word  to  the  rank  and  file  of  the  Hunt.  I  selected  two 
of  my  fastest  mounts,  both  real  good  leppers,  to  wit, 
Cinderella — a  chestnut  mare  almost  clean  bred  who 
had  won  two  nice  little  steeplechases  at  Hunt  meetings, 
and  Uncle  Ben,  a  bay  gelding,  bought  locally  as  a 
four-year-old,  and  broken  to  my  own  hand,  after  he 
had  had  the  rough  edges  chipped  off  by  Bedford,  who 
was  a  fine  horseman,  and  who  delighted  in  preparing 
green  ones  for  me  to  polish.  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
our  artful  friend  would  make  tracks  at  the  slightest 
sign  or  token  of  our  approach,  so  I  sent  Tom  Goddard, 
my  first  whipper-in,  to  a  point  where  I  figured  that 
His  Nibs  would  sneak  away  ;  whilst  Wilson  posted 
himself  three  fields  further  off,  but  well  in  sight  of  Tom 
who  was  not  to  halloa  the  fox,  but  only  to  signal  to  the 
kennel  huntsman  so  that  there  would  be  no  likelihood 
of  Joshua  doubling  back. 

Hardly  had  hounds  been  thrown  in  than  the 
sonorous  voice  of  old  Landsman  was  heard.  This  was 
a  Washington  hound  that  never  told  a  lie.  All  the 
others  of  the  pack  knew  it,  and  would  rally  to  the 
tongue  whenever  and  wherever  thrown  ;  so  that  the 
next  moment  the  shrill  piping  note  of  Blossom,  one  of 


/        CHASING  AND   RACING  93 

the  most  prominent  and  determined  of  my  bitches, 
joined  in  a  duet  with  Landsman's  bass.  And  then  a 
full,  glorious  chorus  broke  out,  as  the  whole  pack 
struck  the  spot  where  reynard  had  curled  himself  up 
to  dream  of  poultry  yards  and  vixens.  In  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time  Wilson's  halloa  was  heard,  announc- 
ing that  the  quarry  was  well  away.  I  thrust  Cinderella 
at  the  rather  trappy  and  hairy  obstacle  that  divided  the 
common  from  the  open  grass.  She  was  always  a  bit 
impetuous  at  the  start.  She  rushed  the  fence  and 
nearly  came  down,  but  she  kept  her  legs  and  I  my  seat. 
I  pulled  her  up  and  touched  the  high  notes  of  my  horn, 
a  signal  which  my  hounds  knew  well.  Out  they 
streamed,  with  very  few  lingerers.  Wedlock,  one  of 
the  Curraghmore  bitches,  was  the  first  to  pick  up  the 
line  ;  she  threw  her  head  up,  striking  an  exultant  and 
musical  note  which  brought  the  whole  bunch  into 
action.  Away  they  went,  heads  up,  sterns  down,  at 
their  best  driving  pace.  Ye  gods  !  What  a  sight  to 
thrill  the  heart  !  What  a  sound  to  enchant  the  ear  I 
Forr'ard,  forr'ard,  forr'ard  ee  wye  !  Nothing  but 
grass  in  front  of  us,  but  the  clay  soil  rather  holding, 
so  that  the  canine  element  had  the  foot  of  the  equine  and 
its  burdens. 

The  select  little  field  was  well  away,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  unfortunate  wight  who  was  riding  a  half- 
baked  young  'un  which  turned  turtle  at  the  very  first 
fence.  Neither  colt  nor  rider  was  hurt.  Having 
remounted,  the  latter,  I  am  told,  took  his  mount  back 


94  CHASING  AND   RACING 

and  put  him  at  the  jump  again,  and  this  time  the 
young  'un  cleared  it  ;  but  the  rider  saw  no  more  of 
the  historic  run.  This  was  the  normal  happening 
when  J.  B.  Cowley  was  schooling  a  "  rookie/*  We 
were  a  mile  ahead,  and  having  to  push  our  mounts  to 
keep  the  pack  in  view.  As  they  swung  round  by 
Elstree  reservoir,  about  fifteen  minutes  from  the  start, 
I  was  able  to  take  a  short  cut  with  Ted  (on  his  slow  but 
sure  old  charger,  Patrick  Geogehan)  and  several  others 
of  the  boys.  I  had  the  luck  to  nick  in  with  hounds  as 
they  crossed  the  London  road,  and  set  their  heads,  as 
well  I  knew,  for  Scratch  Wood,  the  scene  of  many 
happy  days  with  the  gun  ;  for  it  was  situated  on  the 
family  estate,  then  in  the  hands  of  my  half-brother 
Irwin.  My  second  horseman,  George  White,  was 
waiting  here  with  Uncle  Ben  ;  but  Cinderella  was 
still  fresh  and  eager,  so  I  sent  my  man  on  by  road  to 
the  far  side  of  the  sixty-acre  wood,  where  I  felt  certain 
our  fox,  finding  the  drain  holt  in  which  he  had  hoped 
to  harbour  himself  well  stopped,  would  again  face  the 
open  and  point  his  mask  for  Coombe  Wood  or  Shenley. 
The  pack,  without  the  semblance  of  a  check,  drove 
over  the  two  miles  to  '*  Scratch  **  in  what  must  have 
been  record  time.  Then  right  through  the  covert 
they  went,  sending  my  brother's  cherished  pheasants 
bustling  and  squarking  in  all  directions  !  This  meant 
trouble  for  me;  but  there  was  no  time  to  weigh  conse- 
quences. A  halloa  !  from  White  told  me  I  was  right 
in  my  conjecture  as  to  the  itinerary  of  Joshua.     There 


CHASING  AND   RACING  95 

was  a  momentary  check  on  the  road  where  His  Nibs, 
having  cocked  an   eye  on   George's   buff  coat,   had 
doubled  on  his  tracks  and  then  broken  across  the  open 
again.    This  gave  me  time  to  change  on  to  Uncle  Ben, 
who  was  very  much  on  his  toes.     On  White's  informa- 
tion I  halloed  the  hounds,  nipped  over  the  road  hedge, 
and  swung  the  pack  in  a  semi-circle  over  the  field. 
Trimmer,  my  show  hound,  and  Wrangler,  a  son  of 
the  immortal  Belvoir  Weathergauge,  struck  the  line 
simultaneously  and    signified  the  same  in  the  usual 
manner.     Away  flew  the  pack,  '*  Haik  to  Trimmer, 
Haik   to   Wrangler,    forr'ard,    forr'ard   my   beauties, 
push  him  along — Yoi  Blossom  !    Yoi  Wedlock  !    Yoi 
Sampson,"  as  each  took  the  lead  only  to  be  headed  by 
the   next  !     I   was   now   away  with   the   hounds   by 
myself,  and  felt  exultantly  puffed  up.     How  selfish 
some  of  us  are  !     I  was  sorry  for  the  field,  though  the 
survivors  led  by  Wilson  were  well  within  hail.     After 
seven  minutes  of  glorious  galloping  and  jumping  I 
was  faced  by  an  obstacle  which  I  hate  and  loath  like 
poison,  a  bull  fence,  vulgarly  known  as  a  "  bullfinch." 
It  was  set  on  a  rotten  bank.     I  charged  it  with  my  arm 
over  my  face.     Uncle  Ben  burst  half  through  it  then 
became    straddled    on    the    beastly    bank,    where    he 
remained   struggling  and  see-sawing  ;    what  time   I 
quietly   slipped   off  his    back   and    pulled   his    hind- 
quarters free.     But  by  this  time  hounds  were  well  out 
of  sight,  though  I  could  hear  their  music  in  diminuendo 
in  the  distance.     There  was  nothing  left  but  to  follow 


96  CHASING  AND   RACING 

as  best  I  could.  I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  became 
aware  of  a  strange  sensation  around  my  right  eye,  and 
soon  I  could  not  see  out  of  it,  but  there  was  no  pain. 
After  a  time  I  struck  the  trail  of  some  of  the  field,  and 
after  jogging  along  for  a  mile  or  so,  having  lost  all  idea 
of  topography,  I  heard  a  faint  **  whoop-whoop  ''  from 
a  wood  on  the  hill.  Great  Scott,  they've  killed,  thought 
I  to  myself,  cursing  my  luck  for  not  being  in  at  the 
death  ;  but  as  it  happened  they  had  not  killed.  The 
brave  red  skin  had  found  sanctuary  in  South  Mimms 
Wood,  and  was  being  marked  to  ground  by  Wilson, 
who  had  taken  command  when  I  disappeared. 

The  run  had  lasted  fifty  minutes,  with  hardly  a 
breather,  and  on  grass  nearly  the  whole  time  !  As  soon 
as  I  rode  up  I  was  greeted  by  Wilson  with,  "  What's 
the  matter  with  your  eye,  sir  ?  "  I  did  not  know  ;  but 
it  turned  out  that  a  long  blackthorn  had  penetrated 
above  the  eyelid,  though  most  fortunately  without 
injuring  the  eye  itself.  Extraversed  blood  had  caused 
the  whole  socket  to  swell  up,  entirely  destroying,  -pro 
tem^  its  sight.  When  this  thorn  was  removed,  it 
proved  to  be  three-quarters  of  an  inch  long.  Luckily 
nothing  worse  than  a  real  lovely  black  eye  supervened. 
Faith,  but  it  was  a  glorious  run  !  Of  course,  so 
gallant  a  fox  was  left  in  peace  ;  but  he  never  visited 
Stanmore  Common  or  its  neighbourhood  again,  as  far 
as  could  be  ascertained. 

We  were  all  mightily  pleased  with  ourselves,  but 
we  had  to  face  the  reckoning. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  97 

Next   day   I    received   a   furious   letter   from   my 
brother  Irwin,   who  upbraided  me,   in   no  measured 
terms,   for   not   having   whipped   off  before   entering 
Scratch  Wood,  and  sending  the  long  tails  far  and  wide 
over  the  surrounding  country.     He  said  that  on  the 
day  following  our  raid,  he  had  fixed  up  a  big  shoot  in 
honour  of  a  certain  distinguished  General,  who  was 
his  guest,  and  that  now  I  had  upset  the  whole  apple- 
cart.    Furthermore,  he  threatened  to  cut  me  out  of 
his  will  (I  am  his  next-of-kin  and  legal  heir),  leaving  me 
with  a  very  dilapidated  boot  to  put  my  foot  in.     Now, 
although  I  place  fox-hunting  well  in  front  of  pheasant 
shooting,  or  for  the  matter  of  that  any  other  form  of 
sport  with  the  gun,  I  am  not  averse  from  such  diversions 
and  enjoy  the  burning  of  villainous  saltpetre,  or  its 
nitric  substitute,  especially  if  accompanied  by  a  boon 
companion,  a  clever  retriever,  and  a  pointer,  setter,  or 
tireless  spaniel.     So  that  I  had  some  understanding  of 
my  brother's  wrath.     He  hated  hunting  like  poison, 
and,  of  course,  did  not  understand  the  difficulties  in 
which  I  was  placed.     In  the  first  place  it  would  have 
been  utterly  impossible  for  my  whippers-in  to  get  to 
the  head  of  the  pack,  screaming  and  driving  full  steam 
ahead   on    a    burning    scent.     Had   there    been    the 
semblance  of  a  check  I  could  have  lifted  them  to  the 
far  side  of  the  pheasant  preserve  (as  I  was  confident 
that  the  fox  would  go  right  through  and  sink   the 
valley)  and  have  slipped  them  on  to  the  line.     But  there 
was  no  such  check — thank  our  lucky  stars  !     It  was 

H 


98  CHASING  AND   RACING 

some  time  before  Irwin's  fury  went  off  the  boil  and 
gradually  simmered  down  to  a  plaintive  sibilation. 
Then  ominous  growlings  and  grousings  became 
audible  throughout  the  country  ;  because  all  sub- 
scribers had  not  been  warned  of  the  by-day.  A 
committee  meeting  was  held,  and  I  was  solemnly 
cursed  by  bell  and  book  ;  but  like  the  "  Jackdaw  of 
Rheims/'  I  felt  not  a  penny  the  worse  !  Of  course 
there  was  reason  in  the  complaint  ;  but  it  was  urged 
by  the  neglected  ones,  for  the  most  part,  in  a  spirit 
of  mere  captiousness.  These  were  they  who  would 
never  have  dreamed  of  attending  such  a  cutting-out 
expedition,  and  even  had  they  done  so  would  never 
have  gone  two  fields  from  the  common.  They  heard 
of  the  great  run  with  envy,  hatred,  malice,  and  all 
uncharitableness  ;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  if  these 
slackers  and  shirkers  had  assembled  in  force  there 
would  have  been  no  such  a  run.  It  was  only  con- 
trived by  strategy  and  tactics  of  the  most  meticulous 
order. 

Nevertheless,  rebellion  was  in  the  air,  and  the 
conspirators — chiefly  members  of  the  aristocratic  com- 
mittee itself — worked  steadily  behind  my  back,  with  a 
view  to  my  displacement  by  a  professional  huntsman  ; 
though  I  was  to  be  permitted  to  retain  the  mastership 
and  to  provide  the  odd  ;^4000  per  annum  (over  and 
above  the  ;/^i2oo  subscription)  which  it  cost  me  to  run 
the  show.  I  soon  gave  them  to  understand  that  under 
no  circumstances  would  I  give  up  the  horn,  quoting 


CHASING  AND   RACING  99 

the  excellent  sport  that  had  been  shown,  and  the  record 
tally  of  foxes  accounted  for. 

A  general  meeting  of  the  Hunt  was  convened. 
Ted,  who  was  exceedingly  popular  with  the  farmers 
and  tradesmen,  went  a  canvassing,  and  so  well  did  he 
succeed  on  my  behalf  that,  when  the  matter  was  put  to 
the  vote,  the  committee  found  themselves  in  a  minority, 
and  forthwith  resigned  in  a  body. 

Then  I  did  a  foolish  thing,  and  not  for  the  first 
time  under  similar  circumstances.  I  have  always  been 
utterly  averse  from  kicking  an  enemy  when  he  is  down. 
Given  the  whip  hand  I  have  invariably  lowered  the  lash 
and  soothed  the  offender.  In  this  case,  in  addressing 
the  meeting,  I  thanked  it  for  its  vote  of  confidence,  but 
implored  it  to  restore  the  now  thoroughly  disgruntled 
committee  to  its  former  status.  This  was  done,  but, 
as  usual,  the  coals  of  fire  which  I  had  heaped  on  the 
heads  of  my  enemies  scorched  my  own  hands  cruelly. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ON  leaving  Missenden  Abbey  I  had  taken  a 
furnished  lease  of  Harefield  Grove,  near 
Rickmansworth,  for  the  term  of  twelve 
months,  the  while  Chorleywood  House, 
which  I  had  purchased  from  my  fellow  clubman, 
Baily-Ackroyd,  was  being  prepared  for  occupation. 
The  long  disused  kennels,  situated  on  the  edge  of 
Chorleywood  Common,  had  been  renovated  and  my 
hounds,  horses,  and  hunt  servants  were  already 
comfortably  established  there.  There  was  quite  a 
nice  bit  of  shooting  attached  to  Harefield  Grove,  a  fair 
show  of  partridges,  and  some  300  homebred  pheasants, 
so  that  when  at  times  that  season  Jack  Frost  had 
placed  his  veto  on  hunting,  I  and  my  friends  were  able 
to  indulge  in  sport  with  the  gun.  It  was  in  these 
comfortable  quarters  that  the  second  of  my  three  sons 
(Denis)  first  saw  the  light. 

As  soon  as  Chorleywood  House  was  ready  we 
migrated  there,  and  our  social  and  domestic  life  began 
in  earnest.  My  CO.  was  not  really  a  hunting 
enthusiast.  During  my  Mastership  of  the  Missenden 
and  Hambleden  Vale  Harriers  she  had  ventured  to 

trust  herself  on  horseback  now  and  then,  but  one  fine 

100 


CHASING  AND  RACING  loi 

day,  being  jumped  off  and  deposited  rather  rudely  on 
the  ground,  she  there  and  then  foreswore  the  chase 
and  devoted  herself  to  less  exciting  diversions.  Not 
so  her  younger  sisters  "  Miriam  "  and  **  Freddie.** 
They  were  as  keen  as  mustard,  and  a  particularly 
smart  couple  of  worshippers  at  Diana's  shrine.  Both 
were  fearless  horsewomen  with  perfect  hands  and 
stout  hearts.  So  far  all  had  gone  well — the  clouds 
were  already  gathering,  but  it  was  some  time  before 
the  storm  burst  as  narrated  in  the  preceding  chapter. 

The  fact  that  I  had  been  supported  by  **  oi  polloi  ** 
to  the  detriment  of  the  committee's  amour  propre^ 
undoubtedly  rankled  ;  so  I  began  to  feel  that  I  held 
an  isolated  and  far  from  secure  position.  It  might 
have  been  imagined  that  the  committee  of  the  O.B.H. 
having  been  re-installed  at  my  earnest  request,  after 
its  defeat  by  the  body  of  subscribers,  would  have 
had  the  decency  to  acknowledge  the  courtesy  by 
refraining  from  further  back-biting  and  grumbling  ; 
but  alas  !  such  was  not  the  case.  On  the  contrary,  I 
soon  found  myself  up  against  a  carping  spirit  which 
took  all  the  steel  and  enthusiasm  out  of  my  endeavour 
to  keep  up  an  average  of  sport  such  as  had  not  been 
enjoyed  in  the  country  for  very  many  seasons  under 
previous  masters.  Consequently  I  began  to  feel 
utterly  weary  and  fed  up  ;  so  that  when  another  general 
meeting  was  convened,  like  Brer  Rabbit  I  just  "  lay 
low,*'  and  offered  no  opposition  to  a  suggestion  put 
forward  by  a  certain  noble  lord,  whose  suavity  was 


I02  CHASING  AND  RACING 

obvious,  but  whose  loyalty  and  sincerity  were  open  to 
doubt.  His  lordship  paid  me  most  lavish  compliments, 
but  insinuated  that  in  his  opinion  I  had  bitten  off  more 
than  I  could  chew  in  trying  to  hunt  the  whole  country 
successfully.  He  then  begged  to  move  that  the  said 
country  should  be  again  divided  into  East  and  West  ; 
that  I,  with  a  certain  proviso,  should  be  graciously 
permitted  to  deal  with  the  East  ;  whilst  Squire  Drake's 
cousin,  Capt.  "  Mutey  "  of  that  ilk,  should  take  over 
the  mastership  of  the  West,  as  previously  hunted  by 
Austen  Mackenzie. 

Some  one  got  on  his  hind  legs  to  ask  what  the 
proviso  might  be,  and  was  informed  that  it  was  that  I 
should  allow  my  kennel  huntsman — at  that  time  Jack 
Abel — to  carry  the  horn  on  alternate  hunting  days. 
Now  under  normal  circumstances  I  should  have 
fought  this  motion  tooth  and  nail,  but  by  this  time 
clouds  were  gathering  over  my  domestic  roof ;  more- 
over, I  was  becoming  so  keen  on  race  riding  that  I 
must  confess  that  on  many  occasions  I  had  put  Ted 
Jaquet  in  supreme  command — with  Abel  to  hunt  the 
hounds — what  time  I  had  donned  my  colours  and 
was  desporting  myself,  more  or  less  successfully,  at 
Kempton,  Sandown,  Hurst  Park,  and  other  arenas 
over  which  **  blood  "  bounds. 

This  gave  an  excellent — and,  I  must  admit, 
legitimate — handle  for  the  opposition  to  use  against 
me.  That  it  did  so  with  a  hearty  will  and  hefty  pull 
I  need  hardly  say.     So  I  agreed  to  the  terms,  and  made 


CHASING  AND   RACING  103 

the  best  of  them  during  what  proved  to  be  my  last 
season,  which  was  only  conspicuous  by  reason  of  the 
great  physical  merit  of  the  young  entry,  and  the  con- 
sequent raising  of  the  whole  pack  to  a  quite  high-class 
level,  from  a  purely  show  -point  of  view.  Otherwise 
there  was  a  lamentable  fizzle.  We  were  short  of  foxes, 
and  the  hounds,  being  unable  to  serve  two  masters, 
became  bewildered,  and  lacking  in  the  dash  and  per- 
severance which  had  erstwhile  distinguished  them.  It 
was  a  sorry  business. 

I  wonder  how  many  earnest  and  striving  M.F.H.*s 
have  had  their  hearts  and  spirits  broken  as  I  had,  by 
the  lack  of  sympathy,  understanding,  and  true  sports- 
manship on  the  part  of  their  committees  ;  their  name 
is  legion,  I  trow.  Of  course,  there  were  one  or  two  of 
the  right  sort  who  were  members  of  mine,  but  they 
were  in  a  marked  minority  and  quite  overshadowed  by 
the  **  Big  Noises  "  who  held  their  position  by  the 
virtue  of  their  social  status  in  the  country,  but  who 
seldom,  if  ever,  deigned  to  attend  a  meet,  or  if  they 
did  so,  drifted  away  after,  say,  the  first  adjacent  covert 
had  been  drawn.  And  yet  they  constituted  themselves 
arbiters  of  my  efficiency,  or  the  want  of  it,  and  never 
hesitated  to  advance  their  academic  theories  whenever 
occasion  gave  them  the  opportunity.  But  one  striking 
exception  was  the  Hon.  Secretary,  to  whom  I  owed  a 
great  debt  of  gratitude.  His  post  was  almost  as 
thankless  a  one  as  my  own,  but  he  cheerily  carried  on 
and  weathered  all  storms  by  his  tact  and  amiability.      I 


I04  CHASING  AND  RACING 

am  not  alluding  to  my  own  private  secretary  and  bosom 
pal,  Ted  Jaquet,  who,  as  stated,  acted  as  Field  Master, 
and  who  was  so  appointed  by  myself,  but  to  Harvey 
Fellowes,  who  in  his  day  had  been  a  member  of  the 
All  England  Cricket  XI,  in  company  with  dear  old 
"  Uncle  Punch  "  Burbidge,  and  who  was,  so  the  latter 
declared,  one  of  the  fastest  and  deadliest  bowlers  he 
had  ever  seen. 

Misfortunes  seldom  befall  in  single  spies,  but 
generally  descend  in  battalions,  for  it  was  at  this  junc- 
ture that  the  props  of  my  home  were  swept  away  by  a 
devastating  cataclysm,  and  for  years  to  come  I  was 
plunged  into  a  legal  and  psychological  turmoil  which 
completely  diverted  the  current  of  my  hitherto  happy- 
go-lucky  life. 

On  this  miserable  phase  of  my  existence  I  have  no 
wish  to  dwell.  Sufficient  to  state  that  circumstances 
compelled  me  to  take  action  for  divorce  against  my 
wife,  and  that,  as  the  lawyers  on  either  side  were  intent 
on  plucking  the  pigeon  to  the  last  feather,  the  pro- 
ceedings were  painfully  protracted  for  over  three  years 
before  a  final  issue  was  arrived  at. 

Naturally  enough,  the  matter  was  a  public  scandal, 
and  afforded  food  for  every  gossiping  lip  ;  so  that  my 
position  as  M.F.H.  became  untenable.  Both  my 
domestic  and  my  sporting  establishments  were  broken 
up.  I  sold  my  home  and  estate  to  the  Duke  of 
Bedford,  whilst  my  hounds  and  horses  came  under 
hammer. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  105 

It  was  a  heart-breaking  day  for  me  when  the  auction 
was  held.  I  studiously  absented  myself.  I  could  not 
bear  to  see  my  beauties  paraded  in  couples  and  knocked 
down  to  strangers.  The  only  consolation  and  sop  to 
my  pride  which  was  vouchsafed  me,  was  that  they  were 
so  thoroughly  appreciated  by  leading  masters  and 
houndmen  that  the  prices  obtained  spoke  eloquently 
of  the  success  that  had  attended  my  activities  and  my 
endeavours  to  produce  a  first-class  pack  in  record  time. 
One  of  my  stallion  hounds,  which  had  been  an  excep- 
tionally brilliant  worker  and  an  exceedingly  handsome 
specimen  of  his  race,  was  purchased  by  Chandos  Pole, 
who  used  him  to  such  effect  that,  two  seasons  later,  he 
had  no  less  than  twelve  and  a  half  couples  in  his  entry 
owning  this  hound  as  sire.  This  was  Sampson,  by 
Brocklesby  Weathergauge,  a  son  of  Belvoir  Weather- 
gauge.  Trimmer,  a  rich  tan  son  of  the  last  named, 
and  one  of  the  grandest  hounds  I  ever  owned,  went  to 
the  Devon  and  Somerset  Staghounds,  where  he  soon 
asserted  his  transcendent  merit  ;  but  he  met  his  death 
in  strange  fashion.  A  hunted  stag  had  taken  to  a 
mill  pool,  the  wheel  of  which  was  in  ply.  Trimmer, 
who  had  led  the  pack  from  the  start,  leapt  without 
hesitation  upon  the  revolving  wheel,  only  to  be  dashed, 
stunned  and  broken,  into  the  pool  below.  When 
taken  out  he  was  quite  dead.     Alas,  poor  Trimmer  ! 

It  had  always  been  intensely  interesting  to  me  to 
study  the  characters  and  idiosyncrasies  of  every  hound 
in  my  pack.     None  impressed  me  more  than  that  of 


io6  CHASING  AND  RACING 

Landsman,  to  whom  I  have  already  alluded.  He  was 
a  fine,  powerful  fellow,  but  lacking  in  quality  from  a 
Peterborough  point  of  view — by  the  way,  I  only  judged 
at  the  great  hound  show  once,  and  then  I  was  told  off 
to  deal,  not  with  foxhounds,  but  with  harriers  and 
beagles.  His  was  rather  a  surly  disposition.  He 
would  grumble  and  grouse,  with  hackles  erect,  every 
time  he  was  drawn,  and  it  was  some  time  before  I  got 
the  right  side  of  him  ;  but  once  attached,  he  was  quite 
devoted,  in  his  own  peculiar  way.  In  the  field,  he  was 
the  heau  ideal  of  the  perfect  foxhound  ;  though  some 
of  the  fliers  of  the  pack  could  lead  him  on  a  burning 
scent,  he  was  absolutely  reliable.  When  Landsman 
spoke  the  word,  its  truth  was  recognized  by  huntsman 
and  all  who  knew  him.  The  greenest  puppy  would 
fly  to  it  in  covert.  **  Haik  to  Landsman  !  "  was  a  sure 
signal  that  reynard  was  afoot.  During  a  run,  and 
when  a  check  had  occurred,  the  same  cry  was  an 
assurance  that  the  true  line  had  been  recovered.  He 
would  face  anything,  and  go  right  through  the  thickest 
gorse  or  undergrowth,  fire  or  water,  and  over  the 
highest  palings.  He  would  have  faced  the  devil 
himself.  He  always  drove  with  those  bristling  hackles 
up,  and  as  the  pack  ran  from  scent  to  view,  I  have  seen 
him  dash  out,  course  the  unlucky  varmint  as  a  grey- 
hound does  a  hare,  bowl  him  over  single-handed,  and 
shake  the  life  out  of  him  as  a  terrier  does  a  rat  I  Faith- 
ful old  fellow  !  He  was  the  "  Daddy  "  of  the  kennel 
at  home  or  in  the  field  for  three  seasons  ;  but  then  he 


CHASING  AND   RACING  107 

lost  pace,  his  hackles  lay  smooth  on  his  neck,  and  he 
would  tail  off  sadly.  But  when  there  was  a  check  or 
scent  began  to  weaken,  he  was  there  to  set  the  clock 
right. 

I  have  forgotten  to  mention  that,  during  my  last 
two  seasons.  Jack  Abel  had  taken  Wilson's  place  as 
kennel  huntsman,  the  latter  having  been  appointed 
huntsman  to  the  Bicester  under  the  mastership  of 
Lord  Chesham. 

Abel  had  on  several  occasions  commented  on 
Landsman's  failing  prowess.  One  day  I  missed  the 
dear  old  hound.  **  Where's  Landsman  ?  "  I  inquired, 
as  I  cast  my  eye  over  the  dog  pack  at  the  meet.  **  Better 
not  ask,  sir,"  replied  Jack  grimly.  I  took  the  hint, 
but  felt  very  sad.  Of  course,  if  Landsman  had  been 
a  normal  hound  I  would  have  kept  him  as  a  stallion  ; 
but  he  was  not.  He  had  the  appearance  of  a  gelding, 
but  had  been  so  born,  not  made.  He  could  perform 
amorous  gymnastics,  but  there  was  never  any  result. 
In  this  he  resembled  Fullerton,  to  my  mind  the  greatest 
greyhound  of  all  time,  and  certainly  the  most  brilliant 
I  ever  saw  run. 

After  my  resignation.  Bob  Webber  took  on  the 
O.B.H.  East,  and  hunted  it  for  many  seasons  with 
great  success.  In  the  West,  **  Mutey  "  Drake  did 
well,  but  did  not  hold  on  long.  He  was  followed  in 
turn  by  "  Bobby  "  Leadbetter  and  Alfred  Gilbey,  good 
friends  of  mine  ;  but  I  have  no  precise  information  as 
to  the  sport  they  respectively  showed. 


io8  CHASING  AND  RACING 

During  my  hunting  of  the  whole  O.B.H.  country 
an  incident  occurred  which  was  eloquent  of  a  sad 
tragedy.  I  had  found  a  fox  in  the  great  straggling 
coverts  which  lie  between  Gerrard*s  Cross  and  Beacons- 
field.  After  a  long,  slow,  and  intricate  run  on  a 
**  catchy  '*  scent  and  over  very  rough  going,  we 
marked  him  to  ground  on  the  steep  "  hanging  **  below 
Cleveden.  It  was  late  in  the  day  and  the  shadows  were 
lengthening  every  minute.  It  was  no  good  leaving 
"  Joshua  '*  in  his  retreat,  so  I  gave  some  local  rustics 
orders  to  unearth  him,  gently  transfer  him  to  a  sack 
if  and  when  possible,  and  report  to  me  in  due  course, 
when  shekels  would  be  handed  out  as  a  reward  for  their 
enterprise.  Now  it  seems  that  after  a  couple  of  hours* 
strenuous  labour,  carried  on  by  lantern-light,  the 
diggers  came  upon  a  hollow  cavity  wherein  was  found 
a  heap  of  bones  and  skulls.  At  first  it  was  thought 
that  these  grim  relics  were  the  result  of  the  larceny  and 
raiding  of  a  super-fox  among  the  sheep  folds  ;  but 
honest  John  Westrup,  who  had  stayed  to  superintend 
operations,  was  seized  with  a  brain  wave.  He  remem- 
bered that  some  twenty  years  previously,  the  hounds 
then  hunting  the  country  had  run  riot  and  had  gone 
clean  away  from  master  and  hunt  servants,  with  a  fox 
heading  for  the  heights  that  overhang  Father  Thames 
between  Taplow  and  Cookham.  When  the  pack  was 
eventually  held  up  late  at  night  it  was  discovered  that 
five  and  a  half  couples  were  missing.  Expecting  these 
to  find  their  way  back  to  kennel,  or  that  they  would 


CHASING  AND  RACING  109 

be  harboured  and  tended  by  dwellers  within  the  hunt, 
there  was  no  grave  anxiety  at  the  moment ;  but  when 
days  passed  and  no  sign  or  news  of  the  missing  hounds 
was  forthcoming,  advertisements  and  notices  were 
issued,  offering  a  handsome  reward  for  their  recovery. 
Nothing  happened.  The  five  and  a  half  couples 
seemed  to  have  vanished  into  thin  air,  or  to  have  been 
swallowed  up  by  the  earth.  Ah  !  the  alternative  gave 
Jack  the  hint.  He  counted  the  skulls.  Yes,  there 
were  exactly  eleven  of  the  grisly  frontispieces. 
"  Why  !  '*  he  exclaimed,  "  I'm  darned  if  these  ain't 
the  hounds  what  was  lost  twenty  years  agone  !  "  And 
undoubtedly  he  was  right.  These  poor  creatures  had 
evidently  squeezed  themselves  into  the  wide  opening 
of  the  earth  in  pursuit  of  the  quarry  and  had,  one  by 
one,  congregated  in  the  little  cavity.  Then  the  chalky 
soil  had  probably  fallen  behind  them  completely  block- 
ing them  in.  They  had  torn  and  scratched  in  their 
vain  attempt  to  find  a  means  of  egress,  but  had  only 
succeeded  in  enlarging  the  death  chamber.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  that  suffocation  brought  a  more  merciful 
and  speedier  end  than  stark  starvation  ;  but  anyway, 
the  tragedy,  as  reconstructed,  is  a  pitiful  one. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ONE  evening — after  dinner,  be  it  noted — I 
was  boasting  vain-gloriously  of  the  love 
my  hounds  bore  me,  and  how  they  would 
recognize  me  anywhere  and  at  any  time, 
even  if  I  were  not  arrayed  in  my  hunting  kit  or  a 
kennel  coat. 

A  certain  sportive  guest,  who  would  wager  on 
anything  and  to  any  amount,  broke  in — 

**  Here,  old  Cockie,  Til  bet  you  you  won't  go  down 
to  the  kennels  here  and  now,  just  as  you  are,  boiled 
shirt,  dinner-jacket  and  all,  walk  right  into  the  dor- 
mitory department,  and  sit  down  for  ten  minutes 
among  your  docile  beauties  without  uttering  word  or 
sound." 

**  Done  with  you.     Why  not  ?  '* 

Here  the  discreet  and  watchful  Ted  broke  in. 

**  Don't  be  a  fool,  Cockie  !  No  matter  how 
devoted  our — note  the  possessive  plural — hounds,  a 
sudden  rush  and  scrimmage  would  probably  occur  ; 
you  might  slip,  and  then  some  fool  hound  would  be 
sure  to  set  about  you  viciously.  Once  '  the  worry  * 
commenced  you  would  have  the  whole  pack  at  you  and 

no 


CHASING  AND  RACING  in 

you  would  be  broken  up  before  help  could  arrive  or  the 
hounds  realize  their  mistake.  Remember  *  Uncle 
Punch's '  yarn  about  the  master  who  kept  chickens  in 
the  loft  over  his  kennels." 

"  What  was  that,  Ted  ?  "  from  a  chorus  of  hilarious 
voices. 

"  Why,"  continued  my  cousin,  **  although  his  hens 
cackled  regularly  and  continuously,  devil  an  egg  did 
their  owner  gather.  Naturally  he  suspected  deliberate 
larceny,  so  he  lifted  the  lid  of  the  trap-door  which  was 
plumb  above  the  sleeping  kennel,  and  substituted  a 
square  of  thick  brown  paper,  which  he  covered  with 
light  wisps  of  hay.  In  the  morning  he  was  enriched 
by  a  dozen  new-laid  eggs,  and  in  the  kennel  was  found 
a  pair  of  boots  !  The  hounds  refused  to  answer  to 
**  Yoi  cess  cess  !  " 

But  this  fearsome  tale  of  tragedy  failed  to  over- 
awe me; 

**  It's  a  challenge,"  I  replied.  "  He  has  dared  me, 
and  bet  upon  it.  Fm  on,  and  chance  the  ducks. 
*  If  'twere  done,  when  'twere  done,  'twere  well  'twere 
done  quickly.'     So  come  along.     Here  goes  !  " 

Suiting  action  to  words  I  arose  and  picked  up 
my  cloth  shooting  cap. 

"  Well,  Cockie,"  said  Ted,  shaking  his  head 
mournfully,  "  at  least  I — note  the  first  person  singular — • 
(very  1) — insist  on  one  condition.  We  must  all  accom- 
pany you  armed  with  whips,  and  stand  by  when  you 
enter  the  kennel,  in  case  of  accidents." 


112  CHASING  AND   RACING 

"  All  right,  old  friend,  so  long  as  you  keep  at  a 
respectful  distance.'* 

So  we  sallied  forth.  A  full  moon  was  shedding 
her  radiance  on  the  bosky  gorse  which  covered  the 
common  leading  to  the  kennels.  As  we  passed  the 
gates  of  the  demesne  the  mournful  song  of  the 
hounds,  paying  tribute  to  their  goddess  Diana,  rose 
and  fell  on  the  fitful  breeze.  The  chorus  was  answered 
in  counterpoint  by  the  lugubrious  hoot  of  a  vagrant 
owl.  It  was  bitterly  cold.  The  exhilarating  effect 
of  Pol  Roger,  1889,  topped  by  a  liqueur  of  fine 
champagne  of  the  Napoleonic  era,  was  beginning  to 
wear  off. 

Was  I  obsessed  by  funk  }  I  hardly  know  ;  but 
certainly  I  was  not  quite  as  cock-a-whoop  as  erstwhile 
I  had  been  when  comfortably  ensconced  in  my  favourite 
armchair  before  the  fire  in  my  smoking-room. 

A  similar  eerie  feeling  seemed  to  have  overcome  my 
friends,  for  there  was  an  ominous  silence  as  we  neared 
the  scene  of  action. 

On  arriving  we  had  to  knock  up  Wilson  and  his 
satellites  in  order  to  inform  him  of  our  purpose.  He 
also  was  loud  in  his  endeavours  to  dissuade  me  from 
my  foolhardy  escapade. 

**  Don*t  ye  do  it,  sir.  Gawd  knows  what  may 
happen.  Why,  I  would  not  take  the  risk  for  a  mint 
of  gold  or  the  pick  of  the  stable.  That  old  Landsman 
would  be  at  you  like  a  tiger  before  he  tumbled  to  it  you 
were  the  master  !  *' 


CHASING  AND  RACING  113 

But  my  foot  was  obstinately  set  one  way,  and  I  did 
not  mean  to  budge  an  inch. 

The  others  stood  back  as  I  entered  the  outer  yard. 
Then  quietly  I  approached  the  sleeping  quarters  and 
noiselessly  lifting  the  latch  slipped  in. 

The  moonlight  fell  aslant  the  flags  ;  all  was  still. 
The  pack,  having  finished  their  evensong,  now  lay 
coiled  up  in  peaceful  slumber,  huddled  together  for 
warmth. 

For  fully  two  minutes  I  stood  there,  stock  still  and 
as  silent  as  the  grave,  but  my  heart  was  rapping  my 
ribs  uncomfortably.  Then  a  single  hound  raised  his 
head.     It  was  the  surly  and  ferocious  Landsman. 

Slowly  he  came  to  his  feet,  gazing  intently  at  the 
mysterious  and  silent  figure  before  him.  Then  his 
hackles  began  to  rise  **  like  quills  upon  the  fretful 
porcupine,"  but  he  uttered  no  sound. 

All  of  a  sudden.  Blossom,  a  bitch  whose  love  for 
me  was  as  that  of  a  Juliet  for  her  Romeo,  or  a  Francesca 
for  her  Paolo,  awakening  from  her  dreams  (maybe,  of 
straight-necked  foxes,  and  the  glorious  odour  of  a 
burning  scent),  sniffed  the  air,  and  then  bounded  to 
me  with  joyful  whines.  In  an  instant  the  whole  pack, 
including  the  crusty  Landsman,  was  in  action,  and  so 
to  speak,  all  over  me,  lavishing  their  caresses  un- 
restrainedly. Then  I  sat  on  the  bench,  and  when  my 
friends,  with  the  wind  well  up,  came  rushing  in  by 
reason  of  the  rumpus,  I  had  one  arm  around  the 
grumpy  old  Landsman's  neck  and  the  other  around 


114  CHASING  AND  RACING 

Blossom's.  I  had  a  to-do  to  restrain  my  beauties 
from  giving  my  guests  a  welcome  of  a  very  different 
kind,  for  they,  the  hounds,  evidently  imagined  that  a 
vigorous  offensive  was  being  launched  against  the 
person  of  their  master. 

And  so  I  triumphed,  but  for  a  moment  it  was  touch 
and  go.  Had  Landsman  made  an  aggressive  spring, 
there  is  no  saying  what  my  fate  might  have  been.  It 
does  not  bear  thinking  of.  Against  my  will  I  have 
had  at  times  nasty  nightmares,  induced  by  a  sub- 
conscious realization  of  my  peril,  and  have  awakened 
in  a  cold  sweat.  As  it  was,  I  suffered  no  injury  what- 
ever— which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  my  boiled 
shirt  and  dinner  jacket.  I  established  my  contention 
and  pocketed  a  fiver,  though  that  magnificent  sum  could 
hardly  be  termed  "  easy  m.oney." 

I  once  wrote  some  verses  for  the  purpose  of 
recitation,  describing  how  a  postman  of  the  moors  had 
been  hunted  by  Lord  Wolverton's  bloodhounds. 

He  had  helped  the  huntsmen  to  get  the  stag  out  of 
the  river,  and  held  it  whilst  the  knife  did  its  deadly 
work.  Subsequently  the  hounds,  a  very  wild  and 
irresponsible  lot,  ran  riot,  and  getting  on  the  line  of 
the  unfortunate  letter-carrier,  gave  him  a  time  of  acute 
terror.  In  fact,  he  only  just  saved  his  skin  by  shin- 
ning up  a  solitary  but  friendly  tree.  The  final  lines 
of  the  piece  ran — 

I  lay  in  the  fork  the  livelong  night 

And  when  they  found  me  my  hair  was  white, 

So  now  you  know  all  about  it ! 


CHASING  AND  RACING  115 

This  trifle  was  founded  on  fact.  It  is  not  often 
that  a  M.F.H.  is  hunted  by  his  own  hounds  ;  but 
this  happened  to  me. 

We  had  been  to  an  outlying  position  of  the  East 
Division  of  the  country,  and  as  I  had  an  important 
pubHc  banquet  to  attend  in  London,  I  decided  to  go 
with  Bedford  to  the  nearest  L,  &  N.  W.  station — 
which  was  about  three  miles  from  the  point  where  we 
had  whipped  off  for  the  day — and  book  direct  for 
town,  sending  the  pack  back  to  kennel  with  Jack 
Abel  and  his  trustv  men. 

I  and  my  horseman-valet  jogged  along,  but  from 
the  ratings  and  whip-crackings  we  heard  in  our  rear, 
it  was  obvious  that  the  little  ladies — for  it  was  the 
bitch  pack  that  had  been  drawn  for  the  occasion — 
were  giving  trouble  in  their  desire  to  accompany  me. 

All  went  well,  however,  until  we  were  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  station.  We  then  became 
aware  of  most  astonishing  happenings.  The  pack 
was  in  full  cry,  but  the  key  of  its  tongue  had  a  most 
unaccustomed  tone.  As  an  accompaniment,  human 
voices,  uttering  curses  loud  and  deep,  were  to  be 
heard,  with  an  obligato  of  cracking  whips,  which  went 
off  like  pistol  shots.  Then,  round  the  corner  of  the 
road,  some  five  hundred  yards  to  our  rear,  poured  the 
beauties,  going  hell-for-leather,  with  the  hunt  servants 
vainly  endeavouring  to  get  to  their  heads.  In  less 
than  a  minute  they  were  up,  and  all  over  me  and  my 
horse — the  latter  was    the   true   and   tried    Melbury 


ii6  CHASING  AND  RACING 

who,  being  accustomed  to  these  ebullitions,  suffered 
hounds  to  swarm  around  him  and  even  jump  at  his 
head  and  quarters,  without  the  remotest  sign  of 
irritation.  A  bitch  called  Sensitive,  noted  for  her 
agility,  actually  leaped  on  to  the  pommel  of  my  saddle 
and  hung  on.  I  dismounted,  and  handing  Melbury 
over  to  Bedford,  I  took  the  now  thoroughly  exhilarated 
pack  aside,  so  that  it  could  be  ringed  in  and  commanded 
by  *'  the  boys  in  yellow."  Then  I  slipped  back  and 
remounted.  All  to  no  purpose.  The  little  ladies 
broke  the  siege  and  again  clustered  around  me.  It  was 
a  delicate  task  for  the  whippers-in  to  flick  them  away 
without  giving  me  or  my  mount  a  taste  of  the  lash. 
Rhoda,  Blossom,  her  sister  Beauty,  and  Speedy,  a 
Curraghmore  bitch,  absolutely  refused  to  budge,  and 
kept  dodging  in  and  out  of  Melbury's  hoofs  with  their 
sterns  down  and  their  hackles  erect.  Jack  Abel  sat 
mopping  his  brow  and  cursing  under  his  breath, 
whilst  Tom  Goddard  grinned  fatuously.  My  heart 
went  out  to  these  faithful  creatures.  Visions  of  a 
gargantuan  feast  and  the  wine  when  it  is  bubbly, 
faded  into  nothingness.  Instructing  Bedford  to  send 
a  telegram  from  the  nearest  Post  Office,  I  wheeled 
Melbury  round,  and  touching  the  horn  lightly,  turned 
his  head  towards  the  kennels,  seven  miles  distant, 
with  the  bitches,  their  sterns  now  up  and  waving 
triumphantly,  in  peaceful  and  orderly  attendance. 

Like  most  of  those  who  go  out  to  the  hunt  on 
horses,   I   have  occasionally  indulged   in  a   busman's 


CHASING  AND   RACING  117 

holiday.  Sometimes  my  good  friend.  Lord  Lonsdale, 
would  invite  me  to  Brigstock  to  make  acquaintance 
with  the  Woodland  Pytchley.  Together  with  that 
sportive  personality  known  to  his  intimates  as  "  Rock  " 
— being  an  abbreviation  of  his  courtesy  title,  Lord 
Rocksavage,  subsequently  to  become  Marquis  of 
Cholmondeley — and  Lord  Burghersh,  afterwards  Earl 
of  Westmorland,  we  set  out  for  a  round,  which  in- 
cluded the  Fitzwilliam  and  Bache  Cunard's. 

It  was  when  enjoying  a  day  with  the  latter  that 
Major  Candy — commonly  called  "Sugar  ** — was  much 
scandalized  because  of  the  contraption  which  I  had 
affixed  to  my  saddle  to  prevent  my  being  jumped  off  ; 
for  at  that  time  I  was  suffering  from  a  severe  strain  of 
the  tailor's  (sartorius)  muscle  in  my  left  leg,  which  pre- 
vented me  exercising  an  efficient  grip.  I  may  here 
remark  that  this  same  trouble  lasted  me  some  years, 
and  even  when  race  riding  caused  me  to  assume  such 
an  awkward  and  lop-sided  seat  that  I  became  the  target 
for  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  jocularity — 
good-natured  when  I  won,  and  otherwise  when  the 
slinger  or  archer  had  backed  one  of  my  mounts  which 
had  failed  to  catch  the  judge's  eye. 

But  to  return  to  **  Sugar  "  Candy.  We  partook  of 
luncheon  one  day  at  his  shooting-box,  and  here  I  met 
his  only  daughter  "  Kitty,"  destined  to  become 
Duchess  of  Newcastle,  one  of  the  most  successful 
breeders  and  most  competent  of  judges  of  wire-haired 
fox  terriers  that  ever  lived.     From  her  original  stock 


ii8  CHASING  AND  RACING 

and  her  great  sire  Cackler  of  Notts  are  descended 
nearly  every  terrier  of  the  breed  that  is  entitled  to  the 
prefix  "  Champion.** 

Another  time,  Lord  Lonsdale  informed  me  that 
Henry  Chaplin  had  lent  him  his  Lincolnshire  residence, 
Blankney  Castle,  for  a  space,  and  suggested  that  I 
should  accompany  him  thither.  Here  it  was  that  I 
had  the  interesting  experience  of  feasting  my  eyes  on 
Hermit,  the  sensational  Derby  winner  of  1867. 
The  little  chestnut  was  then  in  the  sere  and  yellow,  and 
looked  rather  sorry  for  himself.  He  may  not  have 
been  among  Derby  winners  of  the  very  highest  class, 
but,  as  all  breeders  know,  his  success  at  the  stud  was 
phenomenal.  His  blood  runs  through  that  of  a  very 
large  percentage  of  subsequent  winners  of  the  "  race 
of  races." 

Whilst  I  was  at  Blankney,  Jack  Frost  made  his 
objectionable  breath  felt,  and  snow  lay  deep  on  the 
ground.  We  poached  some  of  our  host's  pheasants, 
and  tried  in  vain  to  course  his  hares  ;  but  we  had  to 
give  it  up  and  await  a  more  favourable  opportunity. 
This  came  when  the  Lord  of  Lowther  Castle  took  over 
the  Mastership  of  the  Blankney,  and  invited  me  up  to 
sample  the  sport.  I  brought  Yeoman  and  Uncle  Ben 
with  me,  and  all  and  sundry  were  curious  to  see  how 
these  nags  would  negotiate  the  local  stone  walls, 
neither  they  nor  their  rider  having  had  any  previous 
experience  of  this  style  of  "  lepping,"  but  I  don't  think 
we  disgraced  ourselves  very  obviously. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  119 

It  was  whilst  hunting  with  another  pack — my 
neighbour  the  Hertfordshire — that  I  nearly  came  to 
an  untimely  end.  I  was  riding  a  "  bit  of  blood  " 
called  The  Fairy.  She  could  gallop  to  a  pretty  tune, 
and  was  a  big  and  fearless  fencer.  With  my  light 
weight  she  had  the  foot  of  the  field,  when  hounds  were 
on  the  stretch.  They  swept  over  a  small  paddock, 
bounded  by  a  rather  formidable  fence,  with  such  a  big 
drop  that  I  could  not,  until  I  was  in  the  air,  see  one 
of  the  field,  who  had  taken  a  short  cut  and  was  trying 
to  butt  in  and  take  an  unfair  advantage.  My  filly 
landed  right  across  the  quarters  of  the  other  nag,  so 
that  all  four  of  us  played  roly  poly  together  in  a  regular 
"  mix  up."  I  felt  the  cantle  of  Fairy^s  saddle  grind 
right  over  my  neck,  which,  luckily  for  my  future, 
failed  to  snap  under  the  pressure,  nor  was  the  other 
rider  or  his  horse  knocked  out.  We  were  soon  going 
again.  Crossing  a  thirty-acre  field  there  were  two 
flights  of  sheep  hurdles  to  negotiate.  The  first  I  flew 
comfortably  enough,  and  then,  to  my  horror,  I  went 
stone  blind.  However,  I  stuck  on,  and  my  filly  took 
me  over  the  second  flight  all  right.  Gradually  my 
sight  returned.  At  first  I  could  only  see  a  pin's  point 
of  light,  but  this  widened  until  I  seemed  as  if  I  were 
looking  through  binoculars.  Finally,  normal  vision 
asserted  itself,  and  I  went  on  happily  enough,  to  enjoy 
a  real  good  run,  which  ended  in  the  fox  being  marked 
to  ground.  Whilst  giving  my  filly  a  well-earned 
breather,  the  young  fellow-my-lad  who  had  got  in  my 


120  CHASING  AND  RACING 

way  ranged  up  alongside,  and  in  a  dulcet  and  sympa- 
thetic voice,  inquired  if  I  was  hurt.  "  Oh  no,  thanks," 
I  said  genially,  "  not  a  bit.  I'm  quite  all  right  !  '' 
Then,  to  my  utter  astonishment,  his  tone  changed 
completely,  and  he  ferociously  remarked,  *'  Then  you 

ought  to  be  !     It  would  have  served  you  d d  well 

right  if  you  had  been  killed  !  '* 

I  was  so  taken  aback  that  I  was  struck  dumb,  and 
my  usually  ready  tongue  failed  altogether  to  frame 
a  repartee. 

On  the  way  home  Ted  and  I,  with  one  or  two  other 
choice  spirits,  called  at  a  wayside  inn  and  regaled  our- 
selves with  a  right  royal  repast.  When  I  retired  to 
bed  I  felt  as  fit  as  the  proverbial  fiddle,  and  on  the 
best  terms  with  myself  ;  but  when  I  awoke  in  the 
morning  I  was  in  agony  !  I  could  not  move  my  head 
the  fraction  of  an  inch,  and  I  ached  in  every  limb.  I 
felt  on  the  verge  of  paralysis,  and  when  my  CO.  called 
in  the  doctor,  I  was  informed  that  my  neck  was  broken 
as  near  as  makes  no  matter.  After  he  had  strapped 
and  plastered  me  up  I  had  to  remain  utterly  quiescent 
for  more  than  a  week.  This  gave  me  an  opportunity 
to  think  what  I  ought  to  have  said  to  the  young  upstart 
who,  after  being  where  he  had  no  right  to  be,  and  so 
imperilling  that  which  I  chose  to  regard  as  my  valuable 
life,  added  insult  to  injury  by  informing  me  that, 
according  to  my  deserts,  that  same  valuable  life  should 
have  been  extinguished  !    Thank  you  kindly,  good  sir  1 

This  little  shake-up  was  the  worst  that  ever  befell  me. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  121 

either  on  the  hunting  field,  racecourse,  or  during  my 
cavalry  experiences,  but  I  never  had  the  misfortune 
to  sustain  a  fracture  of  any  kind.  I  suppose  I  ought 
to  knock  wood.  I  may  yet  be  induced  to  take  a  chance 
mount,  and  once  again  to  catch  hold  of  my  horse's 
mouth  and  set  him  going,  as  the  cheery  ''  view  halloa  *' 
is  followed  by  the  most  glorious  chorus  that  ever 
greeted  ears  attuned  to  the  symphony. 
Quien  sahe  ?     Who  knows  ? 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  has  been  ever  one  of  my  cardinal  errors  to 
amuse  myself  by  placing  a  variety  of  irons 
.  in  the  fires  of  life.  My  friends  tell  me  that 
had  I  concentrated  my  attention  on  one  piece 
of  metal  at  a  time,  it  would  have  glowed  with  a 
far  more  luminous  radiance  than  do  my  bunch  of 
ill-assorted  scraps.  Unfortunately  I  have  a  kink  in 
my  psychological  composition  which  forbids  any  such 
monopoly.  I  must  needs  have  a  finger  in  every  pie 
that  is  baked  in  the  "  field  "  oven.  Thus  it  happened 
that  whilst  I  should  have  been  entirely  absorbed  in  the 
occupation  of  breeding,  entering,  and  hunting  hounds, 
and  incidentally  kow-towing  to  the  mighty  who  con- 
tributed a  mite  towards  the  exchequer,  I  was  prone  to 
devote  a  considerable  amount  of  time  and  much 
cogitation  not  only  to  race  riding  and  a  study  of  all 
matters  connected  with  the  turf,  but  to  coursing, 
angling,  shooting,  and  breeding,  training  and  exhibit- 
ing dogs  of  various  sporting  and  non-sporting  kinds, 
and  judging  the  same  at  all  the  leading  shows. 

As  I  have  already  explained,  my  pony-racing  days 
overlapped  my  experience  as  M.H.  and  afterwards  as 

122 


CHASING  AND   RACING  123 

M.F.H.  It  was,  however,  during  the  latter  that  I  ran 
my  first  horse  in  a  "  legitimate  "  race.  One  day,  Jesse 
Winlield  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  see  my  colours 
carried  triumphantly  under  N.H.  rules.  Having 
notified,  in  a  half-hearted  way,  that  I  was  willing,  my 
trainer  of  ponies  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  picked  up 
an  ancient  crock  which,  thanks  to  the  application  of 
his  remarkable  embrocation,  had  been  rendered  sound 
enough  to  stand  a  gallop  or  two. 

**  You  can  have  him  for  a  song,  Capting,  and  enter 
him  for  an  overnight  selling  hurdle  race  at  Kempton. 
If  he  doesn't  break  down  he  will  win.  Then  you  can 
let  him  go,  for  he  won't  stand  another  race.  It's 
worth  a  gamble.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Right  O  !  Go  ahead  !  And  now,  pray  what  is 
this  decrepit  but  possibly  brilliant  steed  that  you  have 
got  hold  of  Jesse  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  say  to  a  Chester  Cup  winner, 
Capting  ?  " 

"  Rats  !  " 

"  Honest  truth.  It's  The  Reefer,  who  annexed 
the  Cup  and  the  cheese  in  1879."  * 

Sure  enough,  the  old  fellow  managed  to  stand 
up,  and  scored  quite  comfortably.  Needless  to  say, 
I  did  not  buy  him  in,  nor  have  I  any  idea  what 
his  subsequent  career  may  have  been  ;  but  it  was 
something  to  have  made  good  with  my  first  venture 
under   "Rules,"   and    to    have  owned — even  though 

*  Seven  years  previous  to  this  conversation. 


124  CHASING  AND   RACING 

for  the  occasion  only — the  winner  of  such  a  time- 
honoured  race  as  "  The  Chester  Cup." 

Thereby  I  was  encouraged  to  continue.  I  mapped 
out  for  myself  a  pretty  little  "  itinerary  fro  jorma^^  which 
should  see  me  riding  and  winning  in  hunters'  flat 
races,  as  at  that  time  introduced  to  most  of  the  N.H. 
cards  at  the  principal  meetings.  My  first  opportunity 
occurred  when  the  horses  belonging  to  the  eccentric 
and  irresponsible,  but  kind-hearted  Marquis  of  Ailes- 
bury  were  dispersed.  Among  them  was  a  mare  called 
Lady  Frederick,  who  had  won  one  of  these  events  and 
had  run  second  in  another.  She  fell  to  my  bid  at  a 
reasonable  figure.  Not  having  any  No.  i  full-sized 
tackle  to  try  her  out  with,  I  gave  her  a  spin  at  Kempton 
Park  with  my  champion  galloway  Catona,  whom  I 
believed  to  be  capable  of  tackling  this  class  of  gee, 
despite  her  lack  of  inches.  Tommy  Aldridge  had  a 
leg  up  on  the  "  pony,"  whilst  I  had  my  first  ride  on 
the  "  big  *un."  Sure  enough,  the  gallant  Catona  (in 
receipt  of  a  stone)  held  my  mount  for  speed  ;  but 
at  the  distance — the  trial  was  over  the  orthodox  two 
miles — I  got  on  terms,  and  won  without  having  to  call 
on  Lady  Frederick  for  an  extra  effort. 

This  seemed  to  me  good  enough,  so  I  entered  her 
at  Sandown.  Meanwhile,  I  had  registered  new  colours 
under  rules,  viz.  "  Lemon,  orange  sleeves  and  cap," 
and  having  donned  these,  I  was  thrown  up  on  my  new 
purchase.  History  repeated  itself.  As  on  the  occasion 
of  my  first  pony  race  at  Hurlingham,  I  was  left  at  the 


CHASING  AND   RACING  125 

fall  of  the  flag.  Just  think  of  it,  in  a  two-mile  race, 
started  by  a  flag  !  I  lost  five  or  six  lengths,  but  that 
ought  not  to  have  stopped  my  mount  winning  had  she 
and  I  been  good  enough.  Perhaps  neither  of  us  were. 
Anyway,  we  had  an  excellent  view  of  the  race  all  the 
way  from  a  conspicuous  position  in  the  rear  ! 

This  was  discouraging,  but  after  a  bit  I  began  to 
look  about  me  for  something  which  would  do  me 
greater  credit.  The  difficulty  was  that  in  those  days 
"  Squire  Abingdon  "  (George  Baird)  was  buying  up 
anything  going  which  he  considered  capable  of  giving 
him  a  winning  ride.  George  had  a  big  capital  to  draw 
upon,  whereas  my  fortune,  such  as  it  was,  was  represented 
by  income  only,  which  I  could  neither  anticipate  nor 
charge  on  pain  of  forfeiture.  Consequently  whenever 
I  tried  to  get  hold  of  a  decent  bit  of  winning  gee-flesh, 
Abingdon  would  butt  in  and  outbid  me.  But  one  day 
at  Kempton  I  did  have  a  look  in,  when  neither  "  The 
Squire  '*  nor  his  agents  happened  to  be  on  the  spot. 
The  usual  selling  hunter's  flat  race  was  the  last  event 
of  the  day,  there  being  about  seven  runners.  The 
field  had  not  gone  half  a  mile  before  I  noticed  one 
horse,  right  out  by  itself,  leading  by  quite  a  dozen 
lengths.  I  looked  at  my  card  and  found  that  the 
**  speed  merchant  "  was  one  Weasel,  whose  in  and  out 
running  had  caused  him  to  be  regarded  as  one  of  the 
*'  cut  and  not  come  again  '*  brigade.  But  now  he  kept 
up  steam  until  the  straight  was  reached.  Then  he 
began  to  drop  anchor,  though  when  tackled  by  one, 


126  CHASING  AND  RACING 

Gladstone,  he  struggled  on  gamely  enough  to  win  by 
a  head.  His  name  should  have  been  changed  to 
Dizzy  I 

**  I'm  off  to  bid  for  that  joker/*  I  said  to  a  racing 
pal  who  was  with  me. 

**  Don't  you  !  "  he  admonished.  "  Why,  old 
Weasel  is  the  biggest  thief  of  his  class,  which  is  saying 
a  lot." 

Well,  I  had  my  doubts.  I  had  taken  quite  a 
different  and  novel  view  of  the  race  and  the  character 
of  the  winner. 

There  were  few  buyers  about,  and  as  the  Weasel's 
"  connections  "  did  not  seem  anxious  to  retain  him,  he 
was  knocked  down  to  me  for  a  trifling  matter  of  ;^  120, 
or  thereabouts. 

I  thereupon  handed  my  new  purchase  to  James 
Prince,  who,  with  his  brother  John,  was  turning  out 
more  winners  in  this  particular  line  of  business  than 
any  of  their  contemporaries.  Already  he  had  a  filly 
of  mine  which  I  had  obtained  under  rather  peculiar 
circumstances.  I  happened  to  be  attending  a  sale  at 
Tattersall's,  Albert  Gate,  where  I  was  on  the  look-out 
for  a  likely  nag  or  two  to  carry  my  hunt  servants. 
Presently  a  small  but  symmetrical  "  bit  of  blood  "  was 
brought  before  the  rostrum.    Glancing  at  the  catalogue 

1  saw  that  the  *'  lot "  was  described  as  **  A  b.  or  br.  f. 

2  yrs.,  by  Laureate — Clianthus,  by  Stockwell,  untried." 
Although  at  that  time  my  pony-racing  days  had  prac- 
tically come  to  an  end   I  could  not  resist  bidding  for 


CHASING  AND   RACING  127 

this  one,  since,  from  what  I  could  judge,  she  would 
probably  pass  under  the  14.2  standard  even  in  a  year's 
time.  She  was  knocked  down  to  me  for  twenty-one 
guineas,  and  I  sent  her  to  the  brothers  Prince,  who 
soon  informed  me  that  the  little  filly  could  gallop  more 
than  a  bit.  By  the  time  she  was  a  three-year-old  she 
had  grown  beyond  the  galloway  limit,  though  still 
small.  When  tried,  she  proved  herself  smart  enough 
to  win  a  nice  little  race,  and  what  is  more,  she 
**  clicked  "  first  time  out  at  "  Ally  Pally  "  at  a  nice 
price.  The  *'  Frying  Pan  Course  " — twice  round  and 
once  up  the  handle — seemed  to  suit  her,  for  subse- 
quently she  won  another  race  there,  besides  picking  up 
some  of  the  spoils  elsewhere.  At  last  her  merits 
became  so  appreciated  that  I  was  unable  to  buy  her  in, 
after  winning  a  good-class  selling  race.  She  was 
bought  for  a  Belgian  owner,  who  proceeded  to  run  up 
a  sequence  of  wins  with  her,  culminating  in  the  capture 
of  one  of  the  most  important  races  in  his  country.  I 
do  not  know  what  her  end  was.  She  should  have  been 
a  most  successful  matron.  Many  of  these  diminutive 
mares,  like  their  human  prototypes,  beget  hefty  stock 
above  the  normal  size.  I  forgot  to  say  that  I  named 
this  smart  little  lady  Guinevere.  Her  sire.  Laureate, 
was  by  Rosicrucian — Laura  by  Petrarch.  Her  dam, 
Clianthus  by  Stockwell.  Good  enough,  in  all 
conscience  ! 

She  was  the  first  of  my  winners  under  J.C.  Rules, 
and  so  marked  the  beginning  of  a  distinct  era  in  my 


128  CHASING  AND  RACING 

racing  activities.  At  the  close  of  her  three-year-old 
season  on  the  flat  I  put  her  over  the  sticks.  She 
took  to  the  game  with  spirit  and  aplomb,  and  I  had 
visions  of  pulling  off  something  big  in  this  direction. 
I  ran  her  in  two  handicaps,  one  at  Kempton  and  the 
other  at  Sandown.  In  each  instance  she  was  handled 
for  me  by  Roddy  Owen,  most  accomplished  of  horse- 
men and  best  of  good  chaps,  with  a  similar  result, 
viz.,  after  looking  all  over  a  winner  two  hurdles  from 
home,  as  she  began  to  weaken,  she  found  the  final 
obstacles  too  much  for  her  stride,  and  so  nearly  came  to 
grief. 

"  This  is  a  real  nice  little  filly,  Cockie,"  said  Roddy; 
"  a  brilliant  fencer,  and  dead  game  ;  but  she  is  too 
small  for  the  game.  She  has  to  waste  all  her  steam  in 
jumping  instead  of  striding  over  the  sticks.  If  I  were 
you  I  should  cut  this  stuff  out  and  keep  her  to  the  flat." 

Of  course,  I  took  his  sensible  advice. 


CHAPTER  XI 

I  HAVE  now  arrived  at  a  point  in  these 
**  rambling  reminiscences  "  where  I  must  take 
pause  to  survey  the  situation  and  cogitate 
carefully.  Many  of  the  happenings  with 
which  I  would  deal  have  been  previously  chronicled 
by  my  pen  in  various  contemporary  publications. 
I  put  it  to  myself  that  the  most  convenient  method 
for  me  to  adopt  would  be  to  quote  liberally  and 
almost  verbatim  from  some  of  these  scripts.  As  one 
alternative,  I  could  rewrite  the  items  with  which  I  am 
disposed  to  deal.  This  would  resolve  itself  into  a 
question  of  word-juggling  and  paraphrasing  such  as 
would  result  in  a  labour  of  supererogation,  which 
could  have  no  value  from  either  a  literary  or  an  in- 
formative point  of  view.  A  second  alternative  would 
be  to  cut  out  altogether  the  incidents  with  which  I  have 
dealt  in  other  pages.  This  would,  of  course,  create  a 
hiatus  and  a  vacuum  which  would  have  to  be  filled  up 
with  "  padding  '*  and  extraneous  matter  of  doubtful 
concern  to  readers  who  haply  might  have  been  mildly 
interested  in  this  unconsidered  trifle  in  the  way  of 
Turf  history  in  general,  and  my  own  experiences  in 

particular. 

129  K 


I30  CHASING  AND   RACING 

The  said  incidents  have  been  set  forth  chiefly  in 
The  Sporting  Life  and  The  Sunday  Sportsman,  Perhaps 
they  have  been  read,  with  ephemeral  interest,  by  the 
public  ;  perhaps  they  have  been  merely  skimmed. 
In  any  case  the  journals  would  be  almost  invariably 
cast  aside,  and  these  articles  clean  forgotten.  But 
their  inclusion,  in  part,  in  the  present  volume  might 
render  them  permanent  publicity.  So  now  I  put  to 
myself  the  original  proposition.  "  Those  in  favour 
thereof,  please  signify  the  same  in  the  usual  manner. 
On  the  contrary  }     Carried,  nem  con,"** 

So  off  I  go  again  ! 

Hark  back  to  Weasel  ! 

It  was  not  long  before  I  had  cheery  news  from 
James  Prince  concerning  the  progress  of  my  new 
purchase.  He  had  acquitted  himself  right  nobly  in  a 
trial  with  one  Hugger  Mugger,  belonging  to  Harry 
Roberts  (H.  R.  Johnson),  who,  with  his  friend  and 
confederate  Harry  Heasman,  were  stout  supporters  of 
the  "  Princely  '*  establishment  at  Lewes.  I  may  here 
place  on  record  that  these  two  were  good  sportsmen, 
ever  ready  to  lend  me  a  trial  horse,  or  to  "  give  me  the 
ofiice  **  when  one  of  theirs  was  the  goods. 

Prince  advised  the  entry  of  Weasel  in  **  a  seller  '* 
at  Windsor,  and  so  it  happened  that  one  fine  afternoon 
found  me  in  the  paddock  on  the  Royal  Meads,  arrayed 
in  the  new  colours  which  I  had  adopted — "  Eau  dc  nil 
(satin)  jacket.  Mousse  green  (velvet)  cap,  and  braid  '' — 
having  weighed  out  for  Weasel,  and  now  awaiting  the 


CHASING  AND  RACING  131 

order  to  mount  ;  all  the  time  suffering  the  prick  of 
**  the  needle."  Once  in  the  saddle  my  qualms  abated 
and  I  felt  quite  comfortable.  Now  I  had  not  had  an 
opportunity  of  riding  my  nag  at  exercise,  for  at  that 
time  I  was  Master  of  the  Old  Berkeley  Foxhounds,  and 
as  I  hunted  my  pack  myself  five  days  a  fortnight,  and 
had  other  activities  in  between,  I  had  no  time  for 
voyages  of  discovery  to  Lewes.  So  here  was  I,  taking 
a  leap  in  the  dark — riding  my  second  race  in  "  the 
legitimate  game  '^  on  a  horse  I  had  never  previously 
bestridden. 

The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  seek  my  trainer's 
advice  and  stand  by  it. 

**  This  is  a  nice  little  horse,  sir,'*  said  the  worthy 
James.  "  His  temper  and  manners  are  perfect,  and 
he  will  give  you  a  comfortable  ride.  He  may  make  a 
pretence  of  pulling  at  first.  If  so,  don*t  saw  at  him, 
but  allow  him  to  settle  down  and  then  take  a  pull.  Lay 
well  up,  but  don't  come  along  with  him  until  you  are 
half-way  up  the  straight.     I  think  you  will  win.*' 

Going  to  the  post.  Weasel  displayed  the  manners 
of  a  child's  park  hack,  and  stood  quietly  at  the  post. 
Jimmy  Duke  was  riding  one  of  his  own,  called 
Hyacinth,  and  she  was  favourite.  **  Abingdon's  " 
mount  being  also  strongly  supported. 

**  Save  a  pony  ?  "  I  asked  the  young  baronet  (Duke). 

"  Go  to  h !  *'  was  his  curt  and  uncompromising 

reply. 

I  did  as  I  was  told — as  regards  the  riding  of  the 


132  CHASING  AND   RACING 

Weasel,  not,  of  course,  in  compliance  with  Duke's 
order.  My  old  fellow  caught  hold  of  the  bit  as  soon 
as  the  flag  fell  ;  but  I  had  him  well  in  hand  by  the  time 
the  junction  of  the  courses  was  reached,  and  soon  held 
him  nicely  placed  on  the  rails,  lying  fourth,  just 
behind  "  The  Squire."  As  we  completed  the  cir- 
cuit and  came  into  the  straight  I  felt  my  mount  going 
very  strongly  and  smoothly.  Half-way  up,  that 
accomplished  amateur  Abingdon  took  up  the  running  ; 
but  as  soon  as  I  challenged,  his  gee  was  done  with, 
and  I  won  rather  easily  by  a  length  and  a  half.  From 
first  to  last  I  did  not  see  Jimmy  Duke  and  his  fragrant 
Hyacinth. 

This  was  a  good  start.  I  was  immensely  pleased 
with  the  Weasel,  who,  I  discovered,  was  at  one  time 
something  of  a  celebrity  across  the  Irish  Channel, 
having  won  the  Irish  Grand  Military  and  other 
important  jump  races  ;  but  he  had  apparently  for- 
gotten the  art  of  "  lepping,"  for  when  I  tried  him 
over  hurdles  at  home  he  proved  a  very  sticky  jumper, 
always  showing  great  caution  on  the  *'  safety  first  *' 
principle,  by  having  a  good  look  at  each  obstacle  before 
attempting  to  negotiate  it. 

My  second  venture  on  Weasel  was  a  cushy  job. 
It  was  at  Kempton  where  again  **  Jimmy  "  Duke  threw 
down  the  gauntlet.  This  time  with  Unripe — well 
named,  as  the  issue  proved.  Although  he  was  a 
raging  favourite  Weasel  slammed  him  all  ends  up,  and 
lobbed  home  some  twenty  lengths  to  the  good.    There 


CHASING  AND   RACING  133 

was  a  third  runner,  steered  by  Charlie  Thompson^ 
known  to  his  familiars  as  **  Bonnety  Bob,**  but  no 
one  took  any  heed  of  him.  I  have  not  the  least  idea 
what  became  of  him  in  the  back  stretch.  I  think 
he  strayed  out  on  an  ornithological  or  entomological 
venture. 

Next  morning  I  was  "  for  it "  again,  because 
forsooth,  when  "  strolling  home "  on  Weasel,  and 
reaching  the  line  of  coaches,  my  eye  fell  on  an  entranc- 
ing little  golden-haired  fairy,  of  some  five  summers, 
who  was  on  the  box  seat  of  one  of  them,  with  her  dad. 
I  suppose  she  had  backed  Weasel  for  a  box  of  chocolates 
with  some  fatuous  admirer  ;  anyway  she  waved  and 
kissed  her  little  hand  to  me  as  I  came  by,  whereupon 
I  committed  the  awful  solecism  of  returning  the 
greeting.  The  Press  was  very  severe,  "  Buffoon  ** 
being  the  mildest  term  applied  to  my  inopportune 
gallantry. 

A  -prof  OS  "  Bonnety  Bob,'*  he  was  one  of  the 
toughest  propositions  I  ever  came  across.  He  would 
ride  anything,  for  any  one,  at  any  time.  He  seldom 
won  a  flat  race,  but  that  did  not  trouble  him  in  the 
least.  I  remember  entering  one  of  my  hunters  in  a 
steeplechase  at  the  Aylesbury  Hunt  Meeting  just  as  a 
fill-up.  Cossack  was  its  name,  a  fair  performer  in 
the  hunting  field,  but  with  no  pretensions  to  negotiating 
the  stiff  fences  of  the  Aylesbury  course.  Besides,  he 
was  not  half  trained.  However,  Charlie  Thompson 
begged  me  to  give  him  a  ride,  and  although  I  demurred 


134  CHASING  AND   RACING 

to  being  an  accessory  before  the  fact  to  suicide,  which 
is  a  criminal  offence,  he  would  not  be  denied.  I  knew 
he  would  come  to  grief  at  the  first  fence,  as,  in  fact,  he 
did.  Both  he  and  Cossack  were  playing  "  Waltz  me 
round,  Willie,'*  among  the  buttercups  and  daisies  in  a 
flash  ;  but  both  came  up  smiling,  and  had  a  go  at  the 
next  fence,  with  like  results.  After  that  they  gave  it 
up  as  a  bad  job. 

*'  Bonnety  Bob  "  expressed  himself  delighted  with 
his  ride  ;  whilst  I  was  greatly  relieved  that  nothing 
worse  than  bruises  and  strains  had  supervened. 

For  some  time  Weasel  continued  his  triumphant 
career,  and  soon  became  a  sort  of  public  character  ; 
but  he  met  his  Waterloo  at  Northampton.  He  was 
not  so  much  to  blame  as  his  rider.  The  fact  of  the 
matter  is  that  I  was  over  confident  when  rounding  the 
bend  for  home.  The  old  chap  was  full  of  running,  and 
so,  forgetting  what  a  long,  flat  "  run  in  "  it  is,  on  the 
boot  town  course,  I  left  the  other  six  runners  too  soon, 
and  shot  some  four  lengths  ahead.  Then  Weasel 
ceased  pulling,  and  proceeded  to  lob.  Stupidly  I  fell 
in  with  his  views,  and  made  no  effort  to  keep  up  full 
pressure.  Only  one  of  the  others  struggled  on,  a  slow 
plodder,  which  gradually  overtook  us,  and,  before  I 
could  get  a  real  move  on  again,  swept  by  to  win  by  a 
length.  I  was  rightly  slated  for  my  carelessness  ;  but 
I  have  seen  professional  jockeys,  who  should  have 
known  better,  caught  napping  in  this  way,  times  with- 
out number.     On  one  such  occasion   I  was  a  sorry 


CHASING  AND  RACING  135 

sufferer  myself.  I  had  a  little  horse  called  Armada  * 
in  the  Great  Metropolitan.  He  had  won  the  Tattersall 
Sale  Stakes  at  Newmarket — not  a  selling  race,  but  one 
for  three-year-olds  bought  as  yearlings  at  Messrs. 
TattersalFs  auctions.  Thus  he  incurred  a  51b.  penalty 
at  Epsom.  I  tried  him  to  be  an  out  and  out  stayer,  so 
helped  myself  to  ;^3300  to  ;/^  100  against  him,  and  ;£8oo 
to  ;^ioo,  in  another  hand — a  doubtful  one — for  a  place. 

Allsopp  f  was  up.  As  soon  as  the  big  field  was  round 
Tattenham,  and  in  the  straight,  my  green  jacket  was 
seen  to  be  well  in  front,  but  not  on  the  rails.  Armada's 
victory  seemed  assured,  as  he  had  two  lengths  to  the 
good  at  the  distance,  where  to  my  horror,  he  was 
allowed  to  slacken  off  !  No  doubt  his  jockey  thought 
he  was  winning  in  a  canter,  and  did  not  want  to  make 
an  exhibition  of  him.  Fatal  error  I  All  of  a  sudden 
Dick  Chaloner,  on  the  Duke  of  Beaufort's  Parlington, 
dropped  from  the  clouds  and  slipped  up  on  the  rails. 
Before  Allsopp  could  get  Armada  going  again,  the 
other  had  beaten  him  a  head  !  Cruel  luck  this  ! 
And  I  did  not  even  get  my  place  money,  for  my 
"  commission  agents  "  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  time  they  "  did  a  guy."  They  certainly 
did  me  1 

Only  once  in  my  life  have  I  ridden  a  dead  heat,  and 
it  was  Weasel  who  presented  me  with  the  record. 

*  Armada  br.  c.  by  Fernandez  (brother  to  Isonomy) — Sota  di 
Roma  by  Pero  Gomez. 

f  Allsopp  was  only  a  lad  at  that  time. 


136  CHASING  AND  RACING 

This  was  at  Sandown,  where  a  good  field  turned  out 
for  a  two-mile  spin.  In  the  straight  I  had  everything 
beat  but  a  gee  ridden  by  "  Chris  ''  Waller.  I  had  lain 
at  this  one's  quarters  most  of  the  way,  but  when  I  went 
in  earnest  to  put  **  paid  "  to  his  account,  I  found  I  had 
bitten  off  more  than  I  could  chew,  for,  try  as  I  would, 
I  could  not  peg  him  back.  From  below  the  distance 
we  ran  locked  together,  and  when  the  winning  post 
was  reached  I  thought  I  was  beaten  a  head.  Evidently 
"  Chris  "  thought  differently,  for  as  we  pulled  up,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Well,  old  Cockie,  you  just  pipped  me!  '* 
But  when  we  consulted  the  board  we  became  aware 
that  the  "  double  O  *'  had  signalized  that  it  was  a  case 
of  "  fifty  fifty  !  " 

Weasel's  opponent  was  owned  by  William  Stevens, 
the  trainer,  who  readily  agreed  to  a  division. 

Then  Weasel  had  another  nice  little  sequence  of 
wins,  before  being  unplaced,  for  the  first  and  only  time, 
during  the  period  in  which  I  owned  and  rode  him.  A 
rather  important  race,  with  a  handsome  trophy,  was 
provided  by  the  Sandown  Executive.  This  was  for 
horses  that  had  run  in  steeplechases,  hurdle  races,  or 
hunters'  flat  races,  the  penalties  and  allowances  being 
on  an  extensive  scale.  Those  that  had  not  won  a  race 
— selling  races  excepted — receiving  a  very  liberal 
allowance.  A  big  and  "  classy  "  entry  was  secured, 
and  a  good  field  turned  out. 

Weasel  claimed  all  the  allowances,  and  as  the  going 
was  decidedly  deep,  James  Prince — ^John  had  died  long 


CHASING  AND  RACING  137 

ere  this — suggested  that,  for  once  in  a  way,  I  should 
alter  my  tactics  and  come  right  through  from  the  start. 
The  top  weight — the  National  winner.  Cloister,  if  I 
remember  rightly — had  to  shoulder  12  stone  7  lbs.,  and 
as  Weasel  had  only  10  stone  7  lbs.,  a  weight  I  could  just 
do  comfortably,  the  advice  seemed  sound  enough.  But 
class  told  its  inevitable  tale.  I  could  never  go  the  pace. 
It  was  a  cracker  !  One  of  the  fastest  races  I  ever  took 
part  in.  I  had  not  a  look  in  ;  but  the  unexpected 
cropped  up.  A  rank  outsider,  yclept  Mongrel, 
appeared  to  have  the  race  at  his  mercy  half-way  up  the 
straight,  but  his  jockey  completely  lost  control,  and 
the  horse  zigzagged  all  over  the  course,  so  that  one  of 
the  **  cracks  "  was  able  to  catch  and  beat  him. 

Now  the  rider  of  Mongrel  was  that  best  of  sports- 
men and  good  fellows,  "  Geoie  '*  Gunnis.  I  believe 
this  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  sported  silk,  and  it 
certainly  was  the  last.  He  was  called  upon  by  the 
Stewards  to  explain  the  handling  of  his  mount.  Of 
course,  the  explanation  was  obvious  to  one  and  all — 
want  of  experience  and  nervousness.  **  Geoie  *'  would 
have  given  his  ears  to  win.  The  idea  of  his  trying 
to  avoid  doing  so  was  preposterous.  Needless  to  say, 
he  was  honourably  acquitted.  Lord  Dudley  bought 
Mongrel  for  a  tidy  sum,  but,  strange  to  relate,  he  was 
never  again  so  near  to  winning  a  race  as  on  the  occasion 
described. 

I  hardly  ever  rode  Weasel  but  what  some  interest- 
ing, if  not  remarkable,  incident  occurred,  either  before, 


138  CHASING  AND  RACING 

during,  or  after  the  race.     The  following  is  a  case  in 

point  : 

O  wad  some  pow'r  the  giftie  gie  us 
Tae  see  oorsels  as  ithers  see  us  ! 

Burns  ("  Rabble  "  not  "  Tommy  "). 

It  is  sometimes  very  embarrassing  to  be  an  uninten- 
tional eavesdropper  where  one's  personality  and 
character  are  being  discussed  by  others  who  are  un- 
conscious of  our  presence  in  the  flesh  ;  but  there  are 
occasions  when  such  amenities  are  prone  to  fill  one 
with  much  inward  hilarity. 

It  had  been  my  lot  to  encounter  such  an  experience 
on  two  separate  occasions.  On  one,  my  domestic 
character  was  being  canvassed,  and  on  the  other,  my 
ability  as  a  gentleman  rider.  I  will  deal  with  the 
latter,  the  former  being  far  too  controversial,  and 
involving  issues  which  rest  on  the  exact  point  of  view 
from  which  those  who  have  started  the  argument 
regard  moral  and  social  conventions. 

The  dialogue  took  place  in  a  railway  compartment 
when  I  was  en  route  for  the  old  Croydon  racecourse, 
where,  if  I  remember  rightly,  the  last  of  the  time- 
honoured  gatherings  on  that  sporty  but  sticky  course 
was  to  be  held. 

Our  compartment  was  full  up.  Opposite  me  were 
two  youths,  equipped  cap-a-pie  for  the  business  toward. 
They  had  the  impress  of"  the  Varsity,"  and  "  not  long 
down  ''  at  that  ;  but  they  were  evidently  keen  on  the 
game,  and  anxious  to  select  from  their  cards  such 


CHASING  AND  RACING  139 

animals  as  would  be  likely  to  increase  their  respective 
bank  balances,  supposing  such  a  pleasant  possession 
to  exist. 

The  said  dialogue  was  conducted  in  words  to  the 
following  effect  : 

No.    I.  "  What'll  win  this  hunters'  flat  race  ?  '* 

No,  2.  **  Depends  on  what  runs.  It  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  Weasel  with  a  good  man  up." 

No,   I.  "Who  rides.?" 

No,  2.  "  Oh,  the  owner,  I  suppose.  He  is  a 
rotten  jockey  and  can't  ride  for  nuts." 

Here  another  occupant  of  the  carriage — one  well 
acquainted  with  my  personality — tipped  me  a  knowing 
wink  and  butted  in.     I  will  call  him  No.  3. 

No,  3.  "  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  is  it  not  a  fact  that 
Weasel's  owner  has  ridden  him  in  all  his  races  since 
the  horse  became  his  property  and  has  now  scored 
seven  wins  in  succession  ?  " 

No,  2.  "  Oh,  very  likely,  but  that's  because  the 
horse  is  a  flyer  and  had  a  stone  in  hand  every  time. 
*  Cockie '  always  looks  more  like  falling  off  than 
winning.  He  is  the  hossiest  man  on  foot  and  the 
footiest  man  on  a  horse  I  ever  struck." 

No,  3.  "I  suppose  you  know  him  personally  ?  " 
(With  another  wink  at  me.) 

No,  2.  "  Know  him  }  I  should  just  think  I  did  ! 
He  is  not  a  bad  sort  and  we  are  the  best  of  pals,  but 
that  does  not  alter  my  opinion  about  his  riding.  Now, 
if  he  would  put  Teddy  Wilson  up,  I  would  have  my 


I40  CHASING  AND   RACING 

maximum  (I  wonder  what  the  figure  was)  on  Weasel 
to-day.  If  Cockie  rides  I  shall  give  the  race  a  miss  in 
baulk." 

No,  I  {to  No,  3).  "  Well,  from  what  you  say,  sir, 
it  seems  that  Captain  Harding  Cox  has  not  done  so 
badly  after  all.  I  shall  have  a  fiver  on  Weasel  and 
chance  the  ducks  !  '' 

And  then  the  train  pulled  up  and  we  each  and  all 
wended  our  way  through  "  Robbery  Road ''  to 
Croydon  race  meeting  G.H.Q. 

The  hunters*  flat  race,  in  which  Weasel  and  I  were 
to  try  conclusions,  had  closed  over  night  with  a 
numerous  and  quite  representative  entry,  and  all  the 
leading  riders  were  at  hand.  The  event  was  first  on 
the  card,  but  on  examining  it  I  found  that — whereas 
all  the  others  had  claimed  the  full  selling  allowance — 
I  had  carelessly  neglected  to  do  so,  and  that  conse- 
quently Weasel  would  have  to  allow  7  lbs.  all  round. 
Now  it  had  been  pouring  in  torrents  all  night.  Those 
who  remember  the  old  Croydon  track  will  realize  what 
that  meant  to  the  going  ;  especially  on  the  far  side  of 
the  course.  The  soil  there  was  of  stiff  clay  and  about 
as  sticky  and  holding  as  it  is  possible  to  imagine. 

Whilst  by  no  means  underrating  dear  old  WeaseFs 
powers,  I  began  to  doubt  the  possibility  of  his  being 
able  to  concede  as  much  as  7  lbs.  to  three  or  four 
others  of  the  field  under  such  conditions.  This  applied 
especially  to  a  gelding  called  Burton,  which  had  a  good 
record,  and  was  the  mount  of  one  of  our  very  best 


CHASING  AND  RACING  141 

semi-professional  amateurs.  I  had  reckoned  this  gee 
to  be  about  the  same  animal  as  my  old  joker  at  level 
weights.  Nevertheless  Weasel  was  installed  favourite 
at  1 1-8  against,  with  Burton  2-1,  and  others  backed 
from  5-1  to  "  any  price." 

I  was  watching  mine  being  saddled,  when  enter 
the  two  young  fellow-me-lads  of  the  train  journey. 
They  began  looking  over  the  sober  Weasel  and  then 
turned  their  attention  to  myself.  At  first  they  failed 
to  identify  me  in  my  colours  ;  but  presently  **  No.  i  '* 
nudged  his  pal  in  the  ribs  and  tried  to  drag  him  away. 
The  opportunity  was  too  good  to  be  missed.  I 
waltzed  up  to  **  No.  2  "  and  slapped  him  heartily  on 
the  back.  *'  Hallo,  Sonnie,"  I  exclaimed.  **  Why,  I 
haven^t  seen  you  for  an  age.  How  goes  it  ?  Going 
to  support  me  and  this  old  skin  ?  " 

"  No.  2  '*  grew  scarlet  and  looked  like  suffering 
incipient  paralysis.     He  was  struck  dumb. 

I  continued  :  "  You  had  better  have  a  bit  on.  If 
he  can  spare  7  lbs.  to  the  rest  of  the  field  in  this  going 
he  ought  to  win  ;  that  is  to  say,  provided  I  do  not  fall 
off  !  Bye-bye,  and  wish  me  luck.'*  The  last  as  I 
was  swinging  into  the  saddle,  leaving  the  lads  rooted 
to  the  spot  in  a  thoroughly  disgruntled  state  of  mind. 

The  start  was  at  the  end  of  the  straight,  then  past 
the  stands,  once  round,  and  in.  The  going  on  the 
stand  side  was  not  so  bad,  but  as  soon  as  we  were  in 
the  back  stretch  we  were  floundering  in  a  perfect 
quagmire.     I  had  as  usual  taken  the  lead  and  then  had 


142  CHASING  AND   RACING 

pulled  Weasel  back,  lying  at  the  girths  of  an  animal 
ridden  by  Roddy  Owen,  and  backed  only  for  that 
reason.  Two  "  light  weights,"  one  of  which  was  in 
the  hands  of  Guy  Fenwick — I  forget  about  the  other — 
which  must  have  been  veritable  mud  larks,  were  going 
for  all  they  were  worth,  and  soon  opened  up  a  gap  of 
at  least  fifty  yards  between  themselves  and  Burton  who, 
in  turn,  was  some  five  lengths  ahead  of  the  next  batch, 
which  included  Roddy  and  myself.  We  had  been 
having  a  friendly  chat  and  paying  but  scant  attention  to 
the  leaders,  but  now  it  suddenly  dawned  upon  my 
companion,  that  instead  of  their  coming  back  to  us, 
we  were  dropping  further  astern,  and  we  were  now 
close  on  the  final  bend. 

"  I  say,  Cockie,*'  shouted  Owen,  **  if  you  want  to 
win  this  race  you  had  better  get  a  move  on.  Mine  is 
as  dead  as  a  door  nail." 

As  long  as  Weasel  was  up  to  his  hocks  in  clay  he 
refused  to  accelerate  his  pace  ;  but  happily  we  struck 
a  sounder  patch  on  the  bend.  By  the  time  we  were 
round  it  we  had  caught  and  passed  Burton  ;  but  there 
were  the  two  outsiders  playing  mutual  cut  throat 
nearly  loo  yards  ahead,  and  only  4^  furlongs  to  go  ! 
I  now  became  aware  of  a  little  figure  in  a  frock  coat, 
tall  hat,  white  shirt,  and  black  bow  tie,  which  looked  like 
the  impersonation  of  a  methodist  parson  or  a  Pussy- 
foot protagonist.  It  was  dancing  and  gesticulating 
wildly. 

"  Go    on  !     Go    on,  Guv'nor — for    the    love    of 


CHASING  AND  RACING  143 

Gawd  !     IVe  got  me  bloomin'  shirt  on  yer,  and  if  yer 
don't  click,  I'll  drown  meself." 

A  wag  (I  think  it  was  my  old  friend  "  Rapier  "  of 
the  Illustrated  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News)  when 
asked  how  it  was  that  a  rider  with  such  unorthodox 
methods  as  myself  managed  to  win  so  many  races  on 
**  impossible "  animals,  replied,  "  Oh,  don't  you 
know  ?  I'll  tell  you  !  He  climbs  up  his  horses' 
necks  and  shouts  bad  language  into  their  ears.  This 
so  shocks  them  that  in  their  endeavours  to  avoid 
contamination,  they  exert  the  last  ounce  of  effort." 
There  is  some  truth  in  the  gibe,  for  I  had  adopted  a 
modified  "  monkey  crouch  "  long  before  Tod  Sloan, 
or  even  Simms,  had  proved  its  efficacy  ;  whilst  as  for 
using  bad  language,  I  admit  the  soft  impeachment  ; 
for  I  found  it  highly  efficacious  in  the  case  of  Weasel, 
at  any  rate.  On  this  occasion  I  applied  to  him  a  whole 
gamut  of  opprobrious  epithets,  plus  a  severe  one,  two, 
three  with  the  catgut  and  a  dose  of  steel  tonic.  It  was 
seldom  my  habit,  and  never  my  pleasure,  to  use  whip 
or  spur  to  Weasel  ;  but  amiable  beast  that  he  was,  he 
did  not  resent  it  when  I  considered  it  necessary,  and 
he  never  bore  malice  ;  but  he  knew  more  about  the 
alluvial  peculiarities  of  the  Croydon  track  than  his 
rider,  and  had  no  intention  of  exhausting  his  vital 
resources  until  the  psychological  moment  arrived. 
No  sooner  was  he  on  the  sound  turf  and  his  head  set 
straight  for  home,  than  a  wonderful  change  came  o'er 
the  spirit  of  his  endeavours.     He  caught  sight  of  the 


144  CHASING  AND  RACING 

two  unfortunates  (now  completely  spun  out,  but  still 
being  urged  to  extremities,  neck  and  neck,  by  their 
riders)  and  went  for  them  "  hell  for  leather  !  '* 

He  simply  devoured  space,  and  came  up,  well  you 
can't  say  *'  hand  over  fist  '*  when  describing  a  horse's 
gallop,  but  that  describes  it,  and  swooping  down  on 
the  luckless  pair,  just  within  the  distance,  he  sailed 
home  an  easy  winner  by  two  and  a  half  lengths. 

Next  morning  this  feat  was  alluded  to  by  the  sport- 
ing press  in  big  headlines  as  **  A  sensational  race." 
"  Weasel  performs  a  miracle."  **  Never  say  die 
Cockie,"  etc.  It  seems  that  at  one  time  during  the 
running  as  much  as  20-1  was  freely  laid  (and  in  some 
hands  taken)  against  Weasel's  chance. 

The  moral  is  that  a  race  is  never  lost  until  another 
horse  has  won  it,  and  even  then,  a  reasonably  lodged 
objection  may  haply  result  in  a  modified  victory. 

After  I  had  weighed  in  and  changed  I  was  inspect- 
ing various  "  lepping  "  gees  in  the  paddock,  when 
suddenly  my  hand  was  seized  and  wrung  rather  pain- 
fully. It  was  my  little  friend  of  the  bend,  with  the 
sombre,  but  highly  respectable  get-up. 

"  Gawd  bless  yen  Guv'nor  !  "  he  exclaimed 
fervently.  **  Streuth,  I  thought  it  impossible  you 
could  ketch  'em.  Suppose  you  was  coddin'  }  But 
yer  put  the  fear  of  'ell  in  me,  gospel  you  did  !  Thank 
Gawd  I  'ad  a  tidy  win  too,  ^vt  goldin'  jerry  o'  goblins, 
an'  make  no  bloomin'  error  !  " 

Now  this  little  figure  of  fun  rather  interested  me. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  145 

I  told  him  how  gratified  I  was,  in  that  I  had  been  the 
humble  means  of  replenishing  his  exchequer.  Further- 
more, I  ventured  to  inquire  what  his  trade  or  occupa- 
tion might  happen  to  be  when  he  was  not  engaged  in 
pursuing  the  sport  o*  kings  ? 

**  Well,  Guv*nor,'*  he  answered,  "  by  rights  Fm  an 
undertaker's  mute,  but  I  do  a  bit  o*  teaching  in  the 
Sunday  schools  most  weeks." 

Well  !     Well  !     Well  ! 

Later  on  I  struck  **  Nos.  i  and  2." 

"  Hullo  lads  !  '*  I  exclaimed  cheerily  on  meeting 
them.  **  I  hope  you  packed  up  a  parcel  on  old  Weasel. 
You  see  I  did  not  fall  off  after  all.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you,  in  confidence  of  course,  that  my  mount  ran 
clean  away  with  me  ;  but  I  managed  to  cling  on  by 
clutching  his  mane.     Lucky,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  No.  I  "  was  silent. 

**  Don't  rub  it  in,  sir  !  "  murmured  *'  No.  2  " 
miserably. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ERE  is  another  little  story  anent  the  amiable 
and  admirable  Weasel  (in  conjunction 
with  another  of  my  '*  gees  ")  which  forms, 
I  trust,  a  not  uninteresting  item  in  my 
string  of  personal  narratives. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  billiard-room  of  "  The 
Crown  '*  (I  think  that  is  the  name  of  the  leading 
hostelry)  at  Derby.  Ben  Cooper  and  Alf  Savill  are 
trying  conclusions  at  a  friendly  "  hundred  up.''  Enter 
your  Uncle  Cockie,  who  proceeds  to  watch  the  enter- 
tainment.    On  its  conclusion  Ben  addresses  me  : 

"  Going  to  have  a  ride  to-morrow,  Capting  ?  '* 

"  Why  yes,  I  have  a  gee  of  sorts  in  The  Boden 
Eccentric.'* 

"  Rum  sort  of  race  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  for  horses  regularly  ridden  to  hounds 
during  the  season.  There  will  be  a  pretty  big  field, 
too,  from  all  I  hear." 

"  Have  you  found  the  pea  ?  "  this  from  Savill. 

*'  Not  I.     I  expect  you  knights  of  the  pencil  will 

set  your  market  according  to  the  riders,  eh  ?  " 

'*  In  which  case,  sir,  you  are  sure  to  be  favourite  ?  " 

146 


CHASING  AND  RACING  147 

"  Now  don't  be  sarcastic  !     If  you  will  lay  me 
100-8  my  chance,  you  can  book  it." 

**  What's  yours,  Capting  ? ''  interpolates  the 
worthy  Ben. 

"  His  name  is  Latimer,  and  he  is  a  five-year-old 
chestnut  gelding  by  Touchet — Our  Mary.  He  was 
given  to  me  by  Lord  Chesham,  and  he  is  named  after 
that  sporting  and  genial  nobleman's  estate  at  Chenies, 
Bucks.  A  farmer  friend  has  been  riding  him  to  my 
hounds  all  the  season,  and  declares  that  he  cannot 
gallop  faster  than  you  can  kick  your  hat.  I  tried  him 
with  two  of  my  smart  galloways,  and  he  was  up  sides 
with  them.  So  now  you  know  as  much  about  him  as 
I  do  myself.  All  the  Corinthians  from  the  *  shires  ' 
are  on  the  job,  so  there  is  sure  to  be  lots  of  fun." 

"  Is  that  the  only  mount  you  have,  Capting  ?  " 
asks  Ben. 

"  No  ;  I  shall  put  old  Weasel  in  an  overnight  seller, 
for  the  last  day,  and  if  all  goes  well  I  shall  have 
a  jog  around  on  him.  What  about  that  100-8 
Latimer  ?  " 

''  Nuthin'  doin'." 

Then  Alf  Savill  butts  in. 

**  Look  here.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  you, 
Captain.  I'll  lay  you  20-1  against  your  winning 
i;oth  races,  just  for  a  bit  o'  sport." 

*'  Not  fair  odds,  Savill.  Why  Latimer  will  be 
among  the  *  20-1  others  '  in  the  Boden." 

"  Well,  you  can  take  it  or  leave  it,  sir.     Anyway, 


148  CHASING  AND  RACING 

Weasel  is  sure  to  be  favourite,  and  will  probably  start 
odds  on,'* 

Your  Uncle  Cockie  fell  to  it  ! 

"All  right.  You  can  lay  me  £^ioo  to  ;^io  or 
;^400  to  £10  if  you  like  !  " 

"  Thanks,  ;^2oo  to  ;£  10  is  as  much  as  I  can  do  with, 
and  I  expect  you  have  me  boiled  at  that." 

Now  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  really  knew  very  little 
of  Latimer,  and  had  never  been  on  his  back  ;  but  he 
was  a  very  likely  looking  customer,  of  the  wiry  type, 
and  as  sound  as  a  bell.  I  had  no  idea  as  to  the  quality 
of  the  opposition  ;  but  presumed  that  some  of  our 
leading  gentlemen  jocks,  who  had  been  hunting  in 
**  the  shires  "  would  have  been  busy  digging  out  some 
pretty  useful  stuff  with  a  view  to  this  particular 
race. 

From  what  I  could  see  of  them  in  the  paddock, 
before  the  race,  some  of  them  looked  good  enough  for 
anything  ;  they  were  the  cream  of  the  hunting  field, 
and  bloodlike  enough  for  the  race  track. 

The  distance  of  **  The  Boden  '*  was  one  and  a  half 
miles,  starting  a  furlong  below  the  distance  post, 
looping  the  loop,  and  running  in.  There  was  some 
confusion  when  the  white  flag  was  hoisted.  These 
**  fox  catchers  **  seemed  disgruntled  at  the  unwonted 
surroundings  and  circumstances,  Latimer  being  one 
of  the  worst  offenders.  But  I  got  him  off  with  the 
leading  lot,  only  to  pull  him  back  so  as  to  take  careful 
stock  of  the  sort  of  cattle  he  had  to  deal  with.     He 


CHASING  AND  RACING  149 

was,  however,  giving  me  a  good  feel  and  striding  out 
freely. 

I  soon  tumbled  to  it  that  he  had  the  foot  of  the  field ; 
so  I  let  him  "  gang  his  gait."  One  by  one  he  passed 
the  others  until  he  lay  third,  and  then  second.  As  we 
rounded  the  bend  for  home  he  went  smoothly  to  the 
front  and  took  the  rails.  It  was  then  that  I  heard  a 
dismal  wail  from  somewhere  in  the  rear:  *'  Hi,  Cockie, 
hold  hard,  hold  hard  a  bit,  don't  show  us  up  !  *' 

Well,  I  took  no  pains  to  cause  a  lengthy  hiatus 
between  Latimer  and  his  proxime  accessit^  but  allowed 
the  former  to  doddle  on,  to  win  by  four  lengths.  So 
there  was  a  plumb  centre,  with  the  first  barrel  of  my 
double  ! 

When  I  got  back  to  the  dressing-room  there  was  a 
howling  chorus  of  derision.  **  How  do  you  manage 
to  keep  that  tit  behind  hounds,  Cockie  }  '*  **  Have 
you  entered  him  for  the  Gold  Cup  at  Ascot  }  ''  *'  IVe 
got  a  two-year-old  I  think  is  a  smasher  ;  will  you  lend 
me  Latimer  to  try  him  out  ?  If  my  youngster  can  peg 
him  back  at  a  couple  of  stone  Vxn  going  to  win  the 
Derby  " — and  so  on  and  so  forth. 

Certainly  the  gelding  had  pleasantly  surprised  me, 
and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  really  might  be 
able  to  win  a  **  Corinthian  Welter,'*  or  a  long-distance 
**  Seller  "  ;  so  I  had  him  relieved  of  his  fox-catching 
exercise  and  put  into  regular  training.  Presently  I 
entered  him  for  the  principal  club  race  at  Lewes,  and 
looked  forward  to  a  renewal  of  my  experience  as  his 


I50  CHASING  AND   RACING 

pilot  ;  but  fate,  in  the  form  of  a  bad  attack  of  **  'flu,'* 
upset  my  calculations,  though  I  determined  to  let 
Latimer  take  his  chance  just  to  see  how  he  would  shape 
among  real,  live  racehorses.  I  obtained  the  services  of 
my  good  friend  Schwabe,  who  failed  to  land  him  a 
winner  in  a  big  field,  by  a  neck  only  to  the  bad  of 
Barmecide,  who  was  then  at  his  best.  Subsequently 
I  rode  the  chestnut  **  hunter "  at  Sandown  ;  but 
apparently  he  was  off  colour,  for  he  was  dull  and  list- 
less and  gave  no  sort  of  show.  Once  more,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  I  had  to  give  my  ride  a  miss  in  baulk  at 
Lewes,  where  he  showed  his  partiality  for  this  particular 
course  by  winning  cleverly  in  the  hands  of  my  old  friend 
and  Harrow  school-fellow.  Major  *'  Bobby  ''  Fisher. 

Then  I  put  him  to  hurdling,  and  he  took  to  the 
game  as  a  duck  to  water.  I  tried  him  to  be  a  veritable 
smasher,  and  got  Roddy  Owen  to  ride  him  over  the 
sticks  in  an  important  race  at  Kempton.  He  came 
to  the  last  flight  pulling  over  the  leading  horse,  and  his 
victory  seemed  assured  ;  but  the  other  struck  a  hurdle 
and  set  it  on  end,  with  the  result  that  poor  Latimer  hit 
it  a  resounding  bang  and  came  to  his  knees.  He  pulled 
up  on  three  legs.  It  was  obvious  that  he  was  badly 
injured  on  the  near  knee-cap  ;  and  so  it  proved,  for 
though  put  in  slings,  the  joint  oil  ran,  and  a  friendly 
bullet  had  to  be  requisitioned  to  put  an  end  to  his 
sufferings. 

Very  bad  luck  this  1  That  he  would  have  proved 
himself  a  champion  hurdler  I  have  not  the  least  doubt 


CHASING  AND   RACING  151 

Even  a  **  Grand  National  "  might  eventually  have 
crowned  his  career  had  it  not  been  prematurely  cut 
short  as  chronicled. 

And  now  to  return  to  my  **  sportive  double.'*  I 
must  tell  you  that,  after  closing  with  SavilFs  offer,  I 
took  a  more  advantageous  wager  from  a  personal 
friend,  viz.  ;^5oo  to  £20,  So  now  I  was  on  velvet  ; 
for  no  matter  what  the  entries  for  WeaseFs  hunter's 
flat  race  might  be,  that  amiable  and  reliable  bit  of  stuff 
was  sure  to  start  at  a  short  price,  whereby  good  hedging 
would  be  as  easy  as  falling  off"  a  log. 

As  it  happened,  the  race  was  very  poorly  supported 
and  only  three  numbers  were  hoisted  on  the  board;  but 
they  were  a  notable  trio  ;  Weasel,  on  account  of  his 
long  series  of  wins  in  similar  events  ;  Excavator, 
because  he  was  the  mount  of  the  redoubtable  "  Mr. 
Abingdon  "  ;  and  Percival,  because  no  less  accom- 
plished an  amateur  than  Arthur  Coventry  was  in  the 
saddle.  The  betting  was  very  close.  I  am  not 
certain  of  the  exact  figures,  but  there  were  only  a  few 
points  difference  between  the  three.  The  result 
proved  the  accuracy  of  **  the  talent's  "  calculations — 
as  presently  you  shall  see. 

Going  to  the  post,  George  Baird  (Abingdon)  cast 
admiring  and  perhaps  envious  eyes  on  old  Weasel,  who 
was  loping  along  like  a  park  hack. 

"  What  a  dear  old  horse  that  is,  Cockie,"  he 
exclaimed.  **  Why,  I  believe  that  if  you  fell  off  he 
would  stop  and  pick  you  up." 


tl 
it 


152  CHASING  AND  RACING 

I  smiled  and  assented. 
Are  you  going  to  make  the  running  ?  "  he  asked. 
That  depends  **  (cryptically). 
Well,  /  shan^t  and  Vm  sure  Arthur  won't  ;  so 
what  about  it  ?  '* 

"  What,  indeed  ?  " 

Well,  at  any  rate  I  knew  what  to  expect.  You 
never  saw  such  a  barney  !  All  three  of  us,  when  the 
flag  fell,  began  as  near  a  walking  race  as  no  matter. 
One  would  think  the  stakes  were  to  go,  as  in  some 
donkey  and  bicycle  races,  to  the  one  which  could 
contrive  to  come  in  last  !  Weasel,  as  was  his  custom, 
at  the  start,  was  making  a  great  show  of  pulling  ;  so 
much  so  that  willy  nilly  I  was  forced  into  the  lead  ; 
but  I  set  a  pace  that  would  have  suited  a  sprinting 
snail  or  a  tricky  tortoise.  Of  course  I  was  wise  as  to 
what  were  the  tactics  of  my  rivals.  They  were  both 
riding  slow  stayers,  hoping  that  I  would  attempt  to  cut 
them  down  for  speed,  and  that  they  would  run  me  out 
of  it  at  the  finish. 

Not  for  your  Uncle  Cockie  !  Not  on  your 
life! 

Well,  we  kept  up  this  crawl  until  nearing  the  bend 
for  home.  Then,  considering  that  the  psychological 
moment  had  arrived,  I  suddenly  caught  up  old  Weasel 
(who  was  beginning  to  indulge  in  a  nap)  and  shouted 
an  opprobrious  epithet  in  his  ear,  always  a  sure  method 
of  awakening  him  to  his  responsibilities.  Imme- 
diately, he  caught  hold  of  his  bit  and  went  hell  for 


CHASING  AND  RACING  153 

leather.  Before  the  astonished  "  back-markers  "  could 
take  in  the  situation  I  had  a  good  five  lengths  lead  on  the 
rails.  Then  they  came  after  me  for  all  they  were  worth. 
At  the  distance  we  were  all  level,  and  I  had  to  ask  my 
old  pal  to  pull  out  a  bit  extra.  This  the  gallant  little 
chap  did  with  a  will.  Then  we  ran  in,  fairly  locked. 
I  do  not  think  any  one  but  the  judge  could  say  with 
truth  and  precision  which  had  won,  or  if  it  was  a  dead 
heat  between  the  three.  But  I  rather  fancied  that 
Weasel  had  it  !  My  supposition  proved  correct  ;  so 
the  second  barrel  was  quite  effective  and  the  sportive 
double  clicked.     Good  egg  ! 

It  is  not  often  that  loo-i  is  laid  in  a  field  oj  three  ; 
and  still  more  remarkable  is  it  when  the  forlorn  chance 
puts  his  backers  (if  any)  on  such  particularly  luxurious 
velvet.  In  fact  I  can  remember  only  two  instances. 
One  when  Jolly  Sir  John  won  a  race  at  Gatwick  at 
those  forlorn  odds,  when  setting  back  two  well-backed 
opponents  ;  and  the  other,  in  which  I  took  a  prominent, 
but  by  no  means  heroic,  part.  This  was  at  Lewes 
(always  an  unlucky  course  for  me).  There  were  three 
runners  in  a  one  and  a  half  mile  club  welter.  I  forget 
the  name  of  one  of  the  trio — ridden  by  George 
Lambton.  I  was  steering  Trelaske  ;  whilst  the 
third  side  of  this  triangular  "  duel  "  was  a  ragged, 
unkempt-looking  little  devil  belonging  to  that  genial 
and  optimistic  old  "  sport,"  Colonel  Cumberlege,  Joe 
Miller  by  name,  and  ridden  by  Captain  Morris.  To 
use  a  well-worn  aphorism,  *'  Joe  "  looked  as  if  he  had 


154  CHASING  AND   RACING 

been  dragged  backwards,  by  the  tail,  through  a  duck 
pond. 

There  was  close  betting  as  between  Lambton's 
mount  and  my  own  ;  whilst  loo-i  was  actually  laid 
against  the  gallant  ColonePs  "  7'ag  ^^  of  a  gee.  If  no 
one  else  backed  it,  the  owner  did,  and  so  the  S.P.  was 
duly  and  accurately  returned. 

"  Joe  *'  went  away  with  the  lead.  Neither  Lambton 
nor  myself  took  the  slightest  notice  of  him,  but  watched 
one  another  with  lynx-like  vigilance.  And  so  we  ran 
to  the  straight,  with  the  *'  unconsidered  trifle  '*  still 
holding  a  four  lengths'  advantage.  The  going  was 
very  sticky,  and  we  were  giving  away  a  lot  of  weight, 
but  it  was  not  until  we  were  about  three  furlongs  from 
home  that  it  suddenly  dawned  upon  us  that  the 
**  scarecrow  "  was  not  coming  back  to  us,  as  we  had  so 
confidently  expected.  On  the  contrary,  he  looked  like 
going  further  away.  *'  Here,  I  say,"  shouted  George 
of  the  Lambton  ilk  to  me,  "  we  shall  never  catch  that 
joker  if  we  don't  hurry  up  !  " 

And  faith  ^  we  never  did  ! 

The  despised  one  passed  the  post  with  a  very 
useful  margin,  much  to  the  amusement  and  delight  of 
the  crowd,  or  to  those  thereof  who  had  not  backed 
Trelaske  or  G.  L.'s  mount  ;  for  Colonel  Cumberlege 
was  a  local  sportsman  who  was  immensely  popular, 
and  one  who  "  trained  "  (save  the  mark  I)  his  own 
modest  string  ;    but  who  seldom  scored. 

This  Joe   Miller  afterwards  proved  that  he  was 


CHASING  AND   RACING  155 

pretty  useful,  for  not  only  did  he,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  win  another  race  or  two  on  the  flat,  but  became 
a  quite  accomplished  performer  over  the  sticks.  There 
is  a  moral  to  this.  In  race  riding,  never  despise  the 
chance  even  of  one  that  is  generally  considered  the 
rankest  of  outsiders. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

yA  ND  now  I  come  to  my  final  ride  on  dear  old 

/  %         Weasel,   an   equine  friend  whom   I  had 

i      ^       grown  to  love.     A  perfect  understanding 

existed  between  us  from  the  very  first;  and 

even  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  I  memorize  the 

choking  sensation   in  my  throat  which  obsessed   me 

when  I  saw  him  being  led  round  the  sale  ring,  and  yet 

remained   dumb   to    Mr.   Steven's   (the   auctioneer's) 

stirring  and  persuasive  appeals. 

It  was  in  the  early  days  of  Hurst  Park  that  I  had 
entered  my  old  pal  in  the  usual  over-night  selling 
event,  and  had  instructed  James  Prince  accordingly. 
When  my  excellent  trainer  met  me  before  racing,  he 
seemed  rather  perturbed. 

**  Mr.  Johnson  has  entered  Hugger  Mugger  and 
is  bent  on  running.  All  conditions  being  equal  it  is 
as  close  as  no  matter  between  him  and  Weasel.  What 
about  it,  sir  }  " 

**  Well,  they  can  back  the  two  coupled." 

"  Then  they  will  have  to  lay  long  odds.     The 

public  won't  have  anything  else,  that's  sure." 

**  Who  rides  Hugger  Mugger  ?  " 

156 


CHASING  AND  RACING  157 

**  Teddy  Wilson,  Captain.** 

(Mr.  E.  P.  Wilson  the  celebrated  amateur  of  Grand 
National  fame.) 

"  Well,  your  other  patrons  are  not  giving  anything 
away  on  the  score  of  jockeyship  are  they  ?  ** 

**  That's  just  it.  They  think  that  Wilson  will 
outride  you.  But  there,  you  know  how  to  handle  old 
Weasel  better  than  any  one  that  has  ever  ridden  him. 
Here's  Mr.  Heasman,  you  had  better  have  a  word 
with  him.'* 

Now  I  have  previously  stated  that  although  the 
Johnson  and  Heasman  confederacy  followed  the  sport 
with  a  view  to  making  it  pay,  whilst  I  was  out  for 
personal  enjoyment,  I  had  always  been  met  in  the  most 
sportsmanlike  manner  as  one  training  in  the  same 
establishment. 

It  could  not  be  said  of  either  that  he  was  com- 
municative, but  a  wink  of  the  eye  is  often  more 
instructive,  and  sometimes  distinctive,  than  the  wagging 
of  the  tongue  ;  so  that  I  generally  had  a  hint — a 
delicate  sort  of  hint — as  to  the  chance  of  any  animal 
that  the  confederacy  might  be  running. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Heasman,"  I  greeted  him  with, 
**  looks  as  though  our  interests  are  likely  to  clash. 
Why  not  stand  down  with  Hugger  Mugger  and  back 
Weasel  ?  Even  our  friend  Prince  here,  says  that 
there  is  nothing  in  it  between  them.*' 

"  Sorry,  Captain,  but  ours  is  very  fit  just  now,  which 
is  not  often  the  case  ;    so  we  must  strike  whilst  the 


158  CHASING  AND   RACING 

iron's  hot.     Why  not  withdraw  your  old  fella'  and 
support  ours  ?  " 

"  Not  I.     This  may  be  the  last  race  I  shall  ever 
ride  on  old  Weasel.     If  he  wins  I  shall  let  him  go." 

"  Are  you  going  to  back  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  a  trifle." 

"  Well,  tell  you  what.  Let  us  save  a  pony,  or  fifty 
if  you  like,  that  ought  to  meet  the  case." 

I  agreed. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  beat  this  time.  Captain." 
This  from  Heasman. 

"  Perhaps." 

I  must  say  I  had  a  wholesome  dread  of  Teddy 
Wilson's  prowess,  knowing  how  very  close  the  respec- 
tive merits  of  Weasel  and  Hugger  Mugger  had  panned 
out  in  more  than  one  home  trial  ;  but  undismayed, 
I  weighed  out  and  lobbed  down  to  the  post.  There 
were  nine  runners,  but  only  the  two  from  Lewes  were 
backed  with  anything  like  spirit.  Between  Weasel 
and  Hugger  Mugger  the  betting  was  very  close,  the 
latter  being  a  fractional  favourite  at  1 1-8  against. 

In  the  early  stages  of  the  race  nothing  of  interest 
occurred.  I  pursued  my  usual  tactics.  I  had  Weasel 
well  placed,  but  made  no  attempt  to  take  him  to  the 
front  until  well  in  the  line  for  home.  I  was  watching 
Wilson  like  a  hawk,  and  he  was  returning  the  com- 
pliment ;  so  as  soon  as  I  began  my  run  he  was  at  my 
girths.  I  am  sure  we  both  expected  to  come  right 
away  together,  but  such  was  not  to  be  the  case.     Two 


CHASING  AND   RACING  159 

unconsidered  outsiders  (one  of  which  was,  I  think, 
ridden  by  Roddy  Owen)  joined  issue,  and  the  four  of 
us  reached  the  distance  almost  in  a  line,  with  Weasel, 
perhaps,  a  neck  to  the  bad.  He  fell  away  by  another 
half  length  ;  so  I  had  to  give  him  a  sharp  reminder, 
and  call  him  all  the  insulting  epithets  I  could  lay  my 
tongue  to.  Like  the  gallant  old  warrior  he  was,  he 
responded  with  the  utmost  gameness.  I  had  to  come 
up  on  the  far  side  of  the  course  ;  but  having  a  clear 
run.  Weasel  began  to  peg  back  the  others  (all  the 
riders  of  whom  were  firing  off  a  perfect  fusilade  of 
catgut  crackers)  inch  by  inch  ;  and  as  the  post  was 
reached,  his  head  was  sufficiently  obvious  to  the  judge 
to  gain  him  the  verdict  ;  but  the  proverbial  tablecloth 
would  have  covered  the  four  of  us.  There  was  much 
hilarity  indulged  in  by  certain  ribald  fellows  when  I 
returned  to  weigh  in,  because  of  my  unorthodox 
methods,  and  my  peculiar  seat,  to  say  nothing  of  my 
habit  of  applying  the  flail  to  Weasel's  rump  instead  of 
to  his  flanks,  because  he  favoured  the  former  pro- 
ceeding, and  was  inclined  to  resent  the  latter.  Well, 
the  proof  of  the  pudding  was  in  the  eating.  No  doubt 
Weasel  was  never  so  well  or  so  carefully  trained  as  he 
was  at  Lewes  in  the  able  hands  of  James  Prince  ;  but 
the  fact  remains  that  during  that  period,  I  rode  him 
eleven  times  ;  won  outright,  eight  ;  deadheated, 
once  ;  was  once  second  (I  admit  I  ought  to  have  won), 
and  only  once  unplaced;  this  last  when  competing 
against  others  of  a  greatly  superior  class. 


i6o  CHASING  AND   RACING 

Before  becoming  my  property  his  average  was 
about  one  win  in  ten  starts^  and  often  "  down  the 
course  !  *' — verb  sap  I 

It  was  a  sad  damper  on  my  triumph  that  I  had  to 
see  the  dear  old  thing  knocked  down  at  auction  for  a 
sum  amounting  to  over  three  times  that  which  I  had 
paid  for  him  ;  but  matters  of  a  serious  domestic 
nature  *  had  arisen,  such  as  demanded  my  undivided 
attention,  so  that  I  had  decided  to  drop  race  riding 
for  the  time  being  at  any  rate.  Weasel  was  subse- 
quently sold  to  Lord  Dudley  for  "  a  monkey,**  f  with  a 
view,  I  suppose,  to  his  supplying  the  future  Viceroy 
of  Ireland  with  an  armchair  winning  ride  ;  but  as 
far  as  I  am  aware,  this  desirable  consummation  never 
materialized. 

The  last  I  heard  of  the  old  chap  was  that  he  was 
enjoying  otium  cum  dignitate^  as  the  favourite  covert 
hack  of  the  Marquis  of  Cholmondeley. 

With  the  inevitable  straw  in  his  mouth,  his  lordship 
told  me  of  old  WeaseFs  well-being  and  what  a  delightful 
hack  he  was.  This  I  could  well  imagine,  for  his 
manners  were  perfect,  and  he  had  the  temperament  of 
an  angel,  despite  a  knocking  about  and  "  suffering  it 
rough,"  such  as  would  have  converted  nine  blood*uns 
out  of  ten  to  the  ways  of  rogues  or  savages. 

I  have  more  than  once  alluded  to  the  fact  that 
certain  self-styled  critics  affected  to  regard  me  as  an 
amateur  rider  of  no  skill  or  knowledge  whatsoever. 

*  See  p.  104.  I  ^500. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  i6i 

Perhaps  they  were  right.  No  doubt  my  successes  in 
the  saddle  were  entirely  due  to  the  merits  of  horses,  not 
one  of  which  had  cost  me  more  than  ;^2oo5  and  most 
of  which  were  acquired  for  about  half  that  sum  !  But 
I  should  like  to  remark — though  without  any  wish  to 
indulge  in  self-glorification  or  conceit — that  never  once 
was  I  beaten  in  a  close  finish  ;  *  though  on  one 
occasion  when  steering  that  most  impossible  and  hope- 
less, but  handsome  and  powerful  brute,  Roscidus 
(after  being  two  lengths  behind  at  the  distance  in  a  five 
furlong  race),  I  just  failed^  by  a  short  head,  to  get  up 
and  pip  the  favourite  (ridden  by  Tommy  Lushington) 
on  the  post.  I  hope  I  may  be  excused  for  setting  forth 
this  fact  in  self-vindication,  but  there  it  is.  If  any  one 
wishes  to  contravene  it,  let  him  speak  now  or  for  ever 
hold  his  peace. 

A  propos  Tommy  Lushington,  who  afterwards 
became  the  trainer  of  King  Edward*s  *'  leppers,'*  I 
venture  to  think  that  he  was  one  of  the  ablest  and 
strongest  amateur  riders  I  ever  struck.  He  was  always 
a  stumbling  block  to  me,  for  I  do  not  remember  a 
single  occasion  when  I  had  the  best  of  him,  though  I 
had  few  opportunities,  for  he  always  commanded  the 
pick  of  the  mounts  ;  whereas  I,  for  the  most  part,  had 
to  be  content  with  my  own  humble  **  skins."  Another 
of  my  time  who  invariably  put  "  paid  "  to  my  account 
was  Mr.  W.  H.  ("  Bill  *')  Moore.  He  was  good  all 
round,  and  the  strongest  finisher  I  ever  remember  to 

*  Under  Jockey  Club  or  National  Hunt  Rules. 

M 


1 


1 62  CHASING  AND  RACING 

have  encountered  or  seen.     Few,  if  any,  professionals 
could  equal  him  in  this  respect. 

By  the  way,  I  forgot  to  mention  that,  during  the 
time  I  was  enjoying  my  sequence  of  successes  on 
Weasel,  I  was  so  bucked  up  by  our  mutual  perform- 
ances that  I  bethought  me  to  look  out  for  an  under- 
study who  would  carry  me  in  hunters'  flat  races, 
between  whiles.  But  as  previously  stated,  "  Squire  " 
Abingdon  gave  me  little  chance  of  picking  up  such  at  a 
reasonable  figure.  However,  I  did  succeed  in  gather- 
ing to  myself  a  chestnut  gelding  called  Glenquoich,  and 
exploited  him  at  Windsor,  where,  as  chronicled, 
Weasel  and  I  scored  our  first  notch.  Again  success 
was  easily  achieved,  but  this  same  Glenquoich  was 
rather  a  rough  customer,  so  I  let  him  go  at  auction. 

I  now  bethought  me  to  do  a  little  private  training 
on  my  own  behalf.  An  opportunity  presented  itself  to 
me  for  acquiring  the  stables  at  Headbourne  Worthy, 
near  Winchester,  at  that  time  the  property  of  Fred 
Hunt,  senior — the  roundest,  rosiest  little  old  sport  in 
Hampshire.  Fred  had  the  reputation  of  being  some- 
what irritable  and  cantankerous,  but  he  only  required 
tactful  handling  and  a  due  appreciation  of  his  own 
particular  views  as  to  the  fitness  of  speech  and  action 
concerning  things  in  general  and  turf  matters  in 
particular.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  got  on  excellently 
with  him,  and  enjoyed  in  his  company  some  capital 
partridge  shooting  over  his  extensive  farm.  It  was 
here  that  I  had  the  interesting  experience  of  throwing 


CHASING  AND   RACING  163 

a  leg  over  a  Grand  National  hero — none  other  than 
Voluptuary,  who,  later  on,  had  his  activities  directed 
to  dramatic  demonstrations  ;  enacting  the  role  of 
equine  hero  in  a  Drury  Lane  melodrama  in  which  he 
was  the  mount  of  that  genial  artist  and  sportsman, 
Leonard  Boyne,  who  passed  away  in  1920.  On  a 
previous  occasion  I  had  been  on  the  back,  for  a  brief 
moment,  of  a  Derby  winner,  Hermit  to  wit,  and  had 
been  promptly  dislodged  ;  but  "  the  double  "  is  some- 
thing to  buck  about,  don't  you  think  ? 

Of  course  Ted  was  installed  as  resident  manager, 
being  supported  by  his  wife  and  daughter,  Phyllis 
(my  god-daughter),  with  Davis,  to  whom  I  have 
already  alluded,  as  head  lad.  Previous  to  this  venture, 
W.  H.  Manser,  of  Cadland  House,  Newmarket,  and 
afterwards  Martin  Gurry,  of  Abingdon  House,  had 
had  some  of  my  gees  in  charge.  Manser  was  a 
"  character."  He  was  an  unfailing  source  of  amusement 
to  me,  and  to  listen  to  his  tales  of  adventure  in  Russia, 
where  he  was  trainer  to  the  imperial  house  of  Romanoff, 
was  to  experience  thrills  of  wonder  and  amazement. 
There  were  not  wanting  sarcastic  oafs  who  were  wont 
to  say  that  his  name  should  not  have  been  **  W.  H. 
Manser,"  but  rather  R.  O.  Mancer.  However  that 
may  be,  he  was  a  most  generous  and  warm-hearted  man, 
and  a  father  devoted  to  his  three  boys,  George  (Woggy), 
Jack,  and  Charlie,  and  his  dinky  little  daughter, 
Queenie  ;  all  of  whom  were  perfect  artistes  in  the 
saddle.     I  often  rode  exercise  with  them,  and  formed 


1 64  CHASING  AND   RACING 

a  very  high  opinion  of  Woggy's  ability  as  a  stableman 
and  jockey.  I  received  instruction  and  hints  which 
subsequently  served  me  in  good  stead.  Whilst  my 
horses  were  under  the  care  of  his  excellent  Dad  he  rode 
many  of  them  to  victory.  He  just  missed,  by  half  a 
length,  winning  for  me  "  The  Queen's  Prize  **  at 
Kempton,  on  Trelaske.  Strange  to  say  the  winner 
was  the  top  weight,  Chesterfield,  who — so  his  owner, 
my  friend  Mr.  "  Cleveland  "  Davis,  solemnly  informed 
me  after  the  race — had  not  been  off  the  road  or  out  of  a 
walk  for  three  weeks  prior  to  the  event.  As  the  horse 
started  at  extreme  odds,  there  are  good  grounds  for 
accepting  the  owner's  statement,  apart  from  his  reputa- 
tion for  unimpeachable  veracity  ;  but  it  was  a  tall 
order  ! 

I  have  often  wondered  why  **  Woggy  "  Manser 
was  not  more  freely  patronized  by  owners  and  trainers, 
for  he  could  ride  round  about  seven  stone.  He  never 
put  on  weight,  and  his  contemporaries  "  had  nothing 
on  him  *'  as  regards  style,  strength,  and  general 
efficiency.  Just  before  the  Derby  of  19 19,  Woggy 
(who  had  been  given  the  horses  of  Sir  Wm.  Black  to 
train)  wrote  to  me  enthusiastically  about  that  arch 
impostor.  The  Panther,  expressing  his  great  affection 
for  the  ungrateful  animal  and  his  complete  confidence 
in  his  ability  to  lift  the  blue  ribbon.  Apparently 
he  was  a  smasher  at  home  ;  but  on  the  race- 
course 1  Oh,  what  a  change  was  there  !  Perchance 
he  had  had  a  sharp  reminder  with  the  whip  in  that 


CHASING  AND  RACING  165 

desperate  struggle  for  "  The  Guineas,'*  and,  like  many 
others  of  his  kidney,  did  not  appreciate  the  knowledge 
that  he  was  "  on  to  a  good  hiding  to  nothing,'*  every 
time  he  set  wild  eyes  on  a  kaleidoscopic  display  of  silk, 
amid  unfamiliar  and  nerve-racking  circumstances  and 
surroundings.  That  "  a  prophet  has  no  honour  in 
his  own  country  "  is  a  trite  aphorism  which  applies  to 
the  subject  of  my  remarks  very  aptly,  for  later  on, 
Woggy  had  the  distinction  of  being  appointed  trainer 
to  the  Royal  stables  of  Spain,  where  he  had  a  notable 
and  instantaneous  success. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AS  in  my  pony-racing  days,  I  now  began  to 
/  %  look  about  me  for  matches  which  should 
A  m  provide  me  with  a  ride  now  and  then  as  a 
sort  of  divertisement  or  side-show.  That 
dear  old  gentleman,  whom  I  may  call  the  first  Sir  John 
Thursby  (to  distinguish  him  from  his  equally  charming 
and  genial  son,  whose  sad  and  unexpected  death  in  the 
autumn  of  1920  was  a  great  shock  to  his  numberless 
friends),  was  puffed  up  with  pardonable  pride  in  the 
promise  shown  as  a  horseman  by  George,  his  younger 
son  by  a  second  marriage.  Knowing  my  partiality  to 
a  sporting  duel  on  the  Turf,  he  approached  mc  with  the 
suggestion  that  his  young  hopeful  and  myself  should 
have  a  set-to  at  the  forthcoming  Salisbury  meeting, 
since  we  were  each  possessed  of  a  gee  whose  class  and 
form  approximated — to  wit.  Foghorn  and  Trelaske 
respectively.  So  it  was  agreed  that  the  match  should 
be  for  ;^ioo  a  side  over  the  straight  mile. 

The  event  was  set  for  decision  as  the  last  item  on 

the  card.     When   our  numbers  were  hoisted,   Dick 

Dunn,  he  of  the  stentorian  voice  and  lurid  language, 

bellowed  out — 

*'  Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  entertainment 

166 


CHASING  AND  RACING  167 

will  conclude  with  the  popular  farce,  entitled  *  The 
Unequal  Match.*  I'll  take  a  pony  to  twenty,  or  any 
part  of  it.     Pick  which  yer  like  ;    except  Trelaske  !  ** 

I  do  not  know  why  the  boisterous  bookie  should 
have  assumed  that  conditions  were  so  overwhelmingly 
in  my  favour,  unless  on  the  assumption  that  my  then 
greater  experience  would  prove  the  determining 
factor  ;  for  on  "  the  book  '*  there  was  little  between 
our  respective  mounts.  However,  his  forecast  seemed 
to  be  justified  when  Trelaske,  jumping  off  in  front, 
made  all  the  running  and  reached  the  winning-post  a 
length  and  a  half  in  front  of  Foghorn. 

It  was  not  long  before  George  was  handsomely 
compensated  by  winning  a  nice  race  at  Kempton  on 
that  same  Foghorn,  incidentally  taking  down  the 
numbers  of  a  good  field  of  our  leading  jockeys.* 

The  hope  of  the  House  of  Thursby  soon  proved 
himself  an  exceptionally  brilliant  amateur  rider  on  the 
flat.  Indeed,  there  were  very  few,  if  any,  profes- 
sionals who  ''  had  anything  on  him,"  as  the  Yanks  say. 

A  later  match  between  us  might  well  have  been 
of  the  "  unequal  "  description,  given  mounts  whose 
prowess  was  on  a  par,  in  which  case  the  wagering 
on  the  score  of  jockeyship  assuredly  would  have 
enabled  me  to  take  odds  instead  of  laying  them  ! 

Having  suffered  defeat  at  my  hands  on  the  race- 
course, the  sportive  and  combative  George  thought  to 

*  This,  I  believe,  was  the  first  race  under  rules  won  by  George 
Thursby. 


1 68  CHASING  AND   RACING 

have  a  cut  at  me  at  pigeon-shooting  ;  a  pastime  {not 
a  sporty  mark  you  !)  at  which  I  had  had  plenty  of 
practice,  and  no  little  success.  The  contest  took  place 
at  Hurlingham.  I  think  I  conceded  my  young  friend 
a  couple  of  yards,  which  enabled  him  to  push  me  very 
severely  ;  but  I  just  managed  to  hold  my  own.  A 
return  encounter  produced  a  similar  result. 

My  next  match  was  not  so  successful.  I  was 
riding  Roscidus — one  of  the  most  exasperating  horses 
it  has  ever  been  my  misfortune  to  steer — in  a  long- 
distance members'  race  at  Lewes.  At  a  mile  and  a  half 
"  Bill  "  Moore  and  I  were  out  by  ourselves,  with  the 
rest  of  the  field  in  hopeless  plight.  My  opponent's 
mount  was  one  St.  Bede  (belonging  to  Arthur  Yates), 
as  slow  as  a  man,  but  no  end  of  a  sticker,  when,  as  now, 
urged  by  Bill's  flail  (and,  my  word,  he  knew  how  to 
wield  it  !).  Roscidus,  who  had  been  running  easily  on 
a  tight  rein,  now  decided  that  it  was  not  good  enough 
to  further  exert  himself  ;  so  the  soundly  belaboured 
St.  Bede  went  on  to  win  easily  if  somewhat  uncom- 
fortably. 

Said  Moore  to  me  in  the  dressing-room  :  "  That's 
a  useful  horse  of  yours,  Cockie  ;  but  you  should 
keep  him  to  shorter  races.  It  would  have  been  a 
close  thing  between  him  and  my  joker  at  a  mile  and 
a  half." 

**  Well,  let  us  have  a  match  at  that  distance,"  I 
suggested  with  rash  impetuosity. 

Bill  jumped  at  the  offer  with  alacrity. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  169 

A  few  weeks  later  found  us  arrayed  for  battle  on 
the  excellent  Kempton  track.  I  expected  Bill  to  go 
hell  for  leather,  so  as  to  exploit  St.  Bede's  staying 
powers,  and  to  find  the  weak  spot  in  my  ruffian.  I 
was  not  mistaken  !  We  had  hardly  started  when  the 
catgut  began  to  fall  with  resounding  cracks  on  the 
unfortunate  St.  Bede's  flanks.  That  Roscidus  had  the 
speed  of  him  was  obvious.  We  lay  at  his  girths  and 
remained  there  until  half-way  up  the  straight  ;  the 
fusilade  of  flagellation  being  religiously  kept  up  by 
Bill  all  the  way.  As  "  Ma  "  Yates  said  to  me  after- 
wards :  "  When  I  saw  you  sitting  quiet  as  a  mouse  and 
Bill  hard  at  work  on  ours,  I  thought  it  was  *  all  up 
with  us.'  '*  Well,  I  had  thought  the  same,  but  when 
I  asked  the  beast  "  Roscidus  "  to  win  his  race,  he  not 
only  refused  to  pass  St.  Bede,  but  edged  over,  in  crab- 
like fashion,  to  the  stand  side  of  the  course,  and  again 
Bill's  mount  scored. 

I  happened  to  meet  George  Barrett  in  the  paddock 
later.  "  If  I  were  you.  Captain,''  he  said,  "  I  should 
take  that  brute  Roscidus  home  and  serve  him  up  to 
your  hounds.  It's  all  he's  good  for.  We've  all  had 
a  go  on  him,  and  not  one  of  us  has  ever  got  him  first 
past  the  post,  even  when  it  seemed  a  hundred  to  one  on 
him  in  running  !  " 

A  well-known  and  much  respected  dog-breaker 
once  said  to  me:  "  When  I  have  a  real  bad  'un  to  deal 
with,  I  take  a  gun  to  him  and  forget  he  ever  existed  !  " 

This    advice    might    have    been    followed    with 


I70  CHASING  AND  RACING 

advantage  as  regards  Roscidus,  who,  by  the  way,  was  a 
half-brother  of  the  Royal  Hunt  Cup  winner.  Morion — 
what  a  difference  !  I  have  managed  to  forget  what 
the  ultimate  fate  of  this  degenerate  was — something 
with  shafts  and  a  cart-whip  in  it,  I  hope.  But  I  cannot 
forget  that  I  ever  had  him.  He  had  cost  me  too  much, 
both  morally  and  financially. 

I  now  come  to  a  match  which  caused  some  excite- 
ment, and  which  afforded  a  fine  opportunity  for  wags 
of  the  baser  sort  to  indulge  in  airy  witticisms  at  my 
expense.  The  fact  that  it  was  brought  to  an  issue  on 
the  classic  heath  of  "  Head  Quarters,"  *  was  in  itself 
sufficient  to  draw  particular  attention  to  it,  since  such 
a  thing  as  a  private  match  on  that  sacred  stretch  of 
turf  had  been  unknown  for  a  generation  or  so.  More- 
over, the  knights  who  were  to  be  hoisted  into  the 
pigskin  were  of  conspicuously  different  quality.  But  I 
am  anticipating. 

I  happened  to  be  travelling  up  from  Newmarket  in 
company  with  the  late  Mr.  Deacon  and  another,  when 
the  striking  and  aristocratic  looking  owner  named  began 
to  chip  me  about  the  ungenerous  character  of  Trelaske, 
averring  that  the  beast  could  not,  or,  rather,  would  not, 
win  a  race  at  any  distance,  even  if  matched  with  a 
yearling  carthorse,  f 

"  What  about  your  Pusher  ?  "  I  asked  indignantly. 

*  Newmarket. 

f  Mr.    Deacon    was    ignoring    one    or    two    of    Trelaske's 
endeavours. 


(< 


<{ 


CHASING  AND  RACING  171 

"  Why,  Trelaske  is  a  No.  i  cross  between  a  gamecock 
and  a  thoroughbred  bulldog  in  comparison  with  your 
quitter  !  ** 

"  The  Pusher  is  a  good,  honest  horse,  and  pretty 
smart  too,'*  answered  he  of  the  Wellingtonian 
profile  ;   **  but  he  is  unlucky.*' 

"  Unlucky  be  !     Look  here,   I'll  tell  you 

what  I'll  do  with  you.  I'll  back  Trelaske  against 
The  Pusher  for  a  hundred,  one  mile,  even  weights  !  " 

Dear  old  Deacon  cogitated.     Then,  "  I'll  accept 
the  challenge  on  one  condition." 
As  how  ?  " 

That  you  ride  your  own^  and  that  I  am  at  liberty 
to  put  up  any  jockey  I  choose." 

Now,  I  had  been  in  hopes  that  the  Squire  would 
ride  his  "  thief,"  and  that,  though  I  should  then  have 
had  to  put  up  a  matter  of  five  stone  dead  weight,  I 
might  successfully  cope  with  his  equestrian  endeavours. 

I  had  intended  making  this  my  stipulation  ;  but  I 
was  piqued  by  the  implied  contempt  for  my  jockeyship, 
so,  in  an  evil  moment,  I  rose  to  the  bait  and  was  firmly 
hooked. 

Then  my  sportive  old  friend  launched  another 
condition.  Nothing  would  please  him  but  that  the 
match  should  be  decided  at  Newmarket.  I  very  much 
doubted  if  the  stewards  of  the  Jockey  Club  would  fall 
in  with  the  proposition  ;  but  eventually  they  did  so. 
I  suppose  they  possessed  a  strong  sense  of  humour  ! 

The  great  day  came,  and  our  show  was  **  at  the 


172  CHASING  AND   RACING 

head  of  the  bill  *'  :  "  Match  for  ;£2oo,  Mr.  Deacon *s 
The  Pusher  against  Capt.  Harding  Cox's  Trelaske, 
lo  stone  7  lbs.  each.     D.M.*' 

Of  course  I  was  curious  to  see  whom  my  adversary 
had  selected  to  steer  his  pig  of  a  horse.  I  was  not 
kept  long  in  doubt.  Who  do  you  suppose  it  was  ? 
Why,  none  other  than  the  redoubtable  Jack  Watts, 
then  at  the  zenith  of  his  fame  ! 

So  here  we  had  a  top-notch  professional  jockey 
pitted  against  one  who  had  always  been  regarded  as 
very  small  beer  (despite  his  numerous  successes)  even 
in  the  amateur  ranks.  This  promised  lots  of  fun  ;  but 
as  matters  turned  out,  the  onlookers  did  not  get  much 
value  for  their  money. 

The  track  to  be  negotiated  was  the  D.M.  (Ditch 
Mile).  I  had  Trelaske  walked  to  the  post,  thinking 
that  it  would  be  to  his  advantage  to  be  minus  the 
lo  stone  7  lbs.  until  the  white  flag  was  about  to  be 
raised. 

Watts  was  already  in  waiting  ;  The  Pusher  doing 
some  elegant  haute  ecole  gyrations. 

I  had  drawn  the  rails,  and  Trelaske  was  standing 
quietly  enough.  They  say  that  the  essence  of  strategy 
and  tactics  is  the  knowledge  of  when  and  where  the 
enemy  intends  to  strike.  Well,  I  knew  that  Watts 
meant  outmanoeuvring  me.  Of  course  he  had  a  soft 
job  on,  and  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  allowing 
the  match  to  be  decided  on  the  merits  of  the  nags,  -pace 
the  riders. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  173 

I  soon  "  became  wise  to  **  his  intentions,  when  he 
got  his  mount  edging  away  to  the  far  side  of  the  course. 
It  was  part  of  his  game  to  lose  a  couple  of  lengths  at 
the  start.  And  so  it  turned  out  ;  but  I  had  no  counter- 
stroke  at  my  command,  and  I  never  have  been  able  to 
decide  what  I  ought  to  have  done  under  the  circum- 
stances. So  here  was  I  left  to  plough  a  lonely  furrow 
on  the  rails,  with  no  opponent  in  sight,  Trelaske  was 
doing  an  easy  half-speed  gallop,  and  not  exerting 
himself  in  the  very  least.  Invariably  he  had  been 
allowed  to  run  his  own  race.  He  knew — and,  for  the 
matter  of  that.  Watts  knew  well  enough — that  any 
attempt  on  my  part  to  apply  pressure  would  result  in  a 
sticking  in  of  toes,  or  a  hurdling  demonstration  over 
the  rails,  by  my  highly  nervous  steed.  And  so  we 
approached  the  distance,  where  the  accomplished  and 
wily  Jack  suddenly  caught  up  his  obstreperous  mount, 
and  before  that  astonished  animal  realized  what  was 
happening,  he  was  forced  into  a  short  but  sweet  donkey- 
sprint,  which  landed  him  past  the  post  one  and  a  half 
lengths  to  the  good. 

I  had  expected  this,  and  had  bethought  me  that, 
when  it  happened,  I  might  perhaps  counter  the  move 
by  applying  my  whip  forcibly  to  my  boot,  under  the 
impression  that  such  a  demonstration  in  front  of 
The  Pusher's  frontispiece  would  cause  His  Nibs  to 
coil  up  there  and  then. 

I  did,  in  fact,  take  up  my  flail  ;  but  what  was  the 
good,  when  The  Pusher  was  fifteen  yards  wide  on  my 


174  CHASING  AND   RACING 

whip  hand  ?  Besides,  it  is  certain  that  my  mount 
would  have  become  quite  as  disgruntled  as  the  other, 
and  would  have  acted  accordingly. 

So  ended  this  unique  contest.  The  betting  was 
5-2  on  The  Pusher.  There  were  not  wanting  those 
who  sneeringly  observed  that  the  odds  would  have  been 
the  other  way,  if  the  riders  had  been  reversed. 

These  ill-natured  remarks  were  hardly  justified, 
seeing  that,  in  a  mile  handicap  just  before  the  match, 
The  Pusher  had  been  set  to  concede  Trelaske  10  lbs., 
though  as  neither  of  them  was  pulled  out  for  the  event, 
it  is  impossible  to  say  what  the  respective  merits  of  the 
two  really  amounted  to.  But  this  is  not  the  end  of  this 
strange  eventful  history. 

On  returning  to  the  dressing-room,  where  Watts 
was  donning  colours  for  the  next  race  (there  is  no 
**  gentleman  riders'  ''  attiring-room  at  Newmarket), 
he  remarked  to  me  in  his  quiet,  unassuming  way  : 

**  What  a  brute  that  old  Pusher  is  !  When  you 
took  up  your  whip  I  thought  it  was  all  up  with  me  !  '' 

Obviously,  what  he  meant  was  that  the  sight  of  my 
whip  would  cause  his  mount  to  shut  up  like  a  knife, 
as  he  had  done  on  many  previous  occasions. 

Of  course  I  never  for  a  moment  imagined  that  the 
famous  jockey's  implication  was  that,  in  a  close  finish, 
he  would  have  had  reason  to  dread  my  prowess. 

But  there  was  at  that  time  a  so-called  "  sporting  " 
paper  (which  had  an  ephemeral  existence),  the  special 
commissioner  of  which  thought  fit  to  carpet  me  for 


CHASING  AND  RACING  175 

what  he  termed  my  *'  colossal  conceit  and  impudence 
in  supposing  that  Watts  had  anything  but  complete 
contempt  for  my  powers  as  an  amateur  (and  a  by  no 
means  distinguished  one)  when  up  against  his  brilliant 
professional  jockeyship,*'  or  words  to  that  effect. 
The  paper  in  question  was  not  worth  powder  and  shot, 
so  I  let  the  insult  pass. 

But  I  must  repeat  an  innocent  little  quip  which, 
a  prop  OS  this  match,  was  promulgated  by  some  joker 
on  the  prompting,  I  suppose,  of  the  ever  ready  "  Ben 
Trovato.'*     It  is  "  up  agin  me,"  but  not  unfunny. 

The  story  goes  that  good  old  Jacobs,  the  bookie, 
had  cherished  the  belief  that,  despite  the  handicap  of 
jockeyship,  Trelaske  would  win  ;  so  his  volume  was 
overflowing  with  fives  to  two  (laid  freely).  He  was 
watching  the  finish  through  his  binoculars,  and  when  he 
saw  The  Pusher  and  his  pilot  bearing  down  on  my 
labouring  craft,  he  yelled  out,  **  Go  it,  Cockie  !  Hit 
him  !  Hit  him  V*  A  pause — and  then  in  a  sub- 
dued voice — **  By  gum,  /ie*s  missed  him  !  "  My  old 
friend,  the  late  Lord  Burnham,  loved  this  yarn,  and 
trotted  it  out  whenever  one  or  two  were  gathered 
together  in  the  club  lounge  and  I  ventured  to  allude 
to  my  racing  experiences.  But  the  narrative  was 
always  exploited  with  the  best  of  good  feeling  and 
kindness  of  heart. 


CHAPTER  XV 

jA  T    the    Doncaster    sales  I  had    been    greatly 

/  %         struck  with  the  appearance  of  a  slashing 

2^      j|^      chestnut  yearling  filly  bred  by  Mr.  Russell 

Swanwick,   and  already   named   by  him 

Dornroschen,  by  Prism — Rose  Garden,  by  Kingcraft. 

Pier   dam,    Eglantyne,    by   Hermit.     Prism   was    by 

Speculum,  but  did  not  inherit  the  staying  powers  of  the 

latter.     In  fact,  he  was  a  sprinter  pure  and  simple  ; 

though   a  grand    looking  horse  and  winner   of  the 

Steward*s  Cup  at  Goodwood. 

It  is  worthy  of  mention  that  Rose  Garden  was  the 
grandam  of  The  Tetrarch  ;  though  her  daughter  was 
the  result  of  mating,  not  with  Prism,  but  with  that 
horse*s  sire.  Speculum.  It  is  possible  that  the  sus- 
picion of  lack  of  stamina  which  attached  to  some  of 
The  Tetrarch's  stock  may  have  arisen  on  account  of 
a  weak  branch  on  his  dam's  family  tree.  This  inci- 
dentally. To  my  delight  Dornroschen  was  knocked 
down  to  me  for  1 50  guineas,  and  was  sent  to  Abingdon 
House,  Newmarket,  to  be  trained  by  Martin  Gurry. 
I  saw  nothing  more  of  her  until  I  visited  the  stables  the 
following  spring.     Gurry  had  no  good  word  for  the 

big,  lusty  filly.     **  She's  no  good  for  racin*,  Squire,*' 

T76 


CHASING  AND   RACING  177 

he  informed  me.  "  Better  'ave  *er  'ome  and  'unt  'er.** 
I  took  his  advice  as  far  as  change  of  locality  was  con- 
cerned, but  I  did  not  dedicate  her  to  foxhunting. 

After  a  while  Davis,  the  head  lad  of  my  private 
establishment  at  Headbourne  Worthy,  told  me  that 
the  filly  could  go  a  bit  ;  so  I  entered  her  in  a  race  at 
Sandown,  winner  to  be  sold  for  £600,  She  was  still 
very  big  and  above  herself  ;  so  much  so,  that  I  was 
chaffed  unmercifully  in  the  paddock.  I  gave  Weldon 
the  chance  mount,  and  she  won  in  gallant  style,  in  a 
big  field,  at  22-1. 

I  had  hardly  expected  such  a  turn  up,  but  had  **  a 
pony  each  way  '*  on  her.  I  had  to  go  to  750  guineas 
to  retain  her,  and  was  thankful  at  that. 

Now  I  had  bought  her  with  her  engagements  ;  but 
had  struck  her  out  of  most  of  them,  paying  the  minor 
forfeits.  However,  I  left  her  in  a  few  cheap  races  ; 
amongst  them  the  Portsmouth  Stakes,  for  three-year- 
olds,  at  the  Bibury  Meeting  (then  held  at  Stockbridge), 
to  be  ridden  by  members  of  that  select  and  time- 
honoured  club. 

When  the  day  came  round,  it  was  found  that  Tom 
Cannon's  ch.  c.  Blanc  had  frightened  away  all  opposi- 
tion. Had  he  not  beaten  Ravensbury  by  three  lengths 
at  even  weights,  and  was  not  the  latter  always  within 
three  lengths  of  the  mighty  but  lazy  Isinglass  }  Yea, 
verily  ! 

But  I  was  undismayed.  Dornroschen  had  by  this 
time  fined  down,  and  had  improved  out  of  all  knowledge 


N 


178  CHASING  AND   RACING 

in  the  hands  of  Sam  Pickering,  to  whom  I  had  now 
confided  her.  Besides,  there  was  '*  a  pony  "  for  the 
second,  and  I  was  keen  on  a  ride. 

Whilst  my  beautiful  filly  was  being  saddled,  she 
caught  the  eye  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  (as  King 
Edward  VII.  was  then). 

"  Has  she  any  chance  ?  ''  he  asked  me. 

"  Well,  sir,*'  I  replied,  "  they  say  that  Blanc  repre- 
sents Isinglass  at  even  weights  ;  so  I  suppose  it  will  be 
a  case  of  5-2  on  him  !  '* 

"  Why,  they  are  laying  100-8  against  yours,'* 
exclaimed  the  Prince.     *'  Have  you  backed  her  ?  ** 

*'  Yes,  sir.  I  have  £^0  on  her  S.P.  on  the  ofF- 
chance.** 

**  And  I  shall  tell  Reuben  (Sassoon)  to  take  me 
1000-80,**  and  away  went  H.R.H.  as  cheerful  as  a 
cricket. 

Shortly  before  the  Bibury  meeting  I  had  gone  down 
for  a  Dornroschen  trial,  and  this  came  off  one  fine 
morning  by  the  side  of  the  Limekilns  gallop. 

If  I  remember  rightly  the  weights  were,  Blankney 
5  yrs.,  II  stone;  Dornroschen  3  yrs.,  11  stone  10  lbs., 
with  Lord  Rosslyn*s  Grong  (I  think  it  was)  with  a  very 
light  stable  boy  up,  to  ensure  a  true  pace.  Sam  rode 
the  big  son  of  Hermit,  whilst  I  steered  '*  the  star 
turn.**  The  spin  was  over  six  furlongs  only,  but  I  had 
Blankney  well  tacked  down  before  half  the  distance 
was  covered. 

Dornroschen  was  turned  out  for  the  Portsmouth 


CHASING  AND   RACING  179 

Stakes  in  fine  fettle,  and  gave  me  a  splendid  "  feel  " 
when  cantering  to  the  New  Mile  starting-post. 

I  had  had  a  good  look  at  her  opponent  in  the 
paddock,  and  was  not  greatly  impressed.  He  was  a 
washy  chestnut,  and  had  a  rather  shifty  eye,  but  was  of 
good  size,  and  showed  considerable  quality. 

I  had  drawn  the  berth  on  the  rails,  and  there  I 
stuck  from  start  to  finish.  The  Stockbridge  com- 
bination had  a  cut  at  us  inside  the  distance  ;  but  as  I 
kept  my  eye  steadily  fixed  on  home  sweet  home,  I 
failed  to  catch  even  a  momentary  glimpse  of  the 
opposition,  for  I  had  a  good  three  lengths  to  spare  at 
the  finish. 

I  am  told  that  when  Blanc's  rider  (that  accomplished 
horseman,  Arthur  Coventry)  asked  him  to  go  up  to 
Dornroschen  his  "  answer  was  in  the  negative  !  "  A 
clear  case  of  "I  could  (perhaps)  if  I  would,  but  I 
wouldn't  !  " 

After  weighing  in,  and  bowing  (metaphorically) 
to  showers  of  congratulations,  I  strolled  on  to  The 
Lawn.  Immediately  cheers  broke  out  from  "  The 
Rails." 

"  Come  over  here,  Capting,"  shouted  the  usually 
imperturbable  Fry  ;  "  we're  going  to  have  a  statue 
in  gold  with  diamond  spurs  erected  in  your 
honour." 

"  Did  they  bet .?  "  I  asked. 

"Bet  1  I  should  think  they  did  bet  I  Look 
here  1  "     And  he  showed  me  his  volume,  where  a 


i8o  CHASING  AND  RACING 

long  row  of  figures  were  emblazoned.  One  of  ;£5ooo 
to  400j  many  of  ;^2ooo  to  i6o,  and  a  whole  column  of 
;^iooo  to  80  on  Blanc. 

This  on  Frys  hook  alone  I 

Roughly  speaking,  I  believe  the  Ring  netted 
between  ;/^30jOOO  and  ;^40,ooo  on  this  simple  and 
otherwise  unimportant  spin  between  two  starters  in 
a  ;£300  race  ! 

The  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  backers  had  had  a 
lamentably  sorry  time  on  the  previous  day's  racing,  and 
this  was  to  have  been  the  "  getting  out  '*  stakes.  But 
why  the  knights  of  the  pencil  were  so  accommodating 
as  to  overlay  their  books,  history  sayeth  not  ;  though 
I  shrewdly  suspect  that  they  had  some  prescience  of 
Dornroschen's  real  quality,  or  of  Blanc's  lack  of 
courage,  and  having  gauged  the  situation  accurately, 
were  quite  prepared,  and  even  anxious,  to  gamble,  by 
taking  100-8  on  what  they  had  quietly  figured  to  be  a 
5-2  chance  ! 

I  had  been  doing  my  S.P.  business  with  Richard 
Fry's  nephew,  Walter  of  that  ilk.  Seeing  an  oppor- 
tunity for  pulling  '*  the  old  man's  "  leg,  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation. 

As  "  The  Leviathan  "  was  triumphantly  showing 
me  his  book,  I  asked  quietly  : 

"  By  the  way,  Fry,  you  guarantee  your  nephew 
*  W.  E. '  don't  you  ?  " 

**  Why,  certainly,  Capting.  How  much  had  you 
on  with  him  }  ** 


CHASING  AND   RACING  i8i 

*'  Oh,  not  much/'  I  answered  casually.  *'  A  matter 
of  *  a  monkey  *  S.P.,  that's  all." 

Fry's  beatific  smile  faded  away  like  an  Eastern 
sunset  ;  but,  to  do  him  justice,  he  did  not  turn  a 
hair,  or  alter  the  tone  of  his  voice.  All  he  said  was, 
"  Good  luck  to  you,  Capting.  That  will  be  all 
right  !  " 

Then  I  undeceived  him,  and  he  heaved  a  gentle 
sigh  of  relief.  I  have  much  to  say  about  Dornroschen 
and  her  remarkable  achievements  ;  but  must  leave  the 
subject  over  for  future  exploitation,  simply  recording 
here  and  now  the  fact  that  she  won  the  Nottingham 
Handicap  (;/^iooo)  as  a  three-year-old^  ridden  by  Morny 
Cannon  and  carrying  8  stone  lo  lbs.  In  so  doing 
she  cut  the  time  record  for  a  mile,  previously  held  by 
the  bold  Bendigo,  when  as  a  jive-year-old  he  won  the 
**  Lincolnshire  "  with  only  8  stone  5  lbs.  up  ! 

**  Some  "  filly,  this  daughter  of  Prism,  eh  ?  For 
nine  years  she  held  the  record,  and  then  it  was  lowered 
by  Wallace  Johnson's  Harrow  at  Lingfield. 

The  last  of  these  strange  eventful  histories  of 
matches  materialized  under  the  following  circum- 
stances. My  friend.  Sir  James  Duke,  *'  owed  me 
one."  Had  I  not  intervened  between  his  well-backed 
favourite  (on  two  occasions)  and  the  winning  post,  on 
my  trusty  old  Weasel  ? 

In  a  certain  race,  to  wit,  the  Kempton  Cup,  there 
were  three  runners  only  ;  viz.  Sir  J.  Blundell  Maple's 
Macuncas,   Mr.  B.  L.   Cooper's  Blankney,  and  Sly 


1 82  CHASING  AND   RACING 

Shot,  ridden  respectively  by  Wingfield,  Watts,  and 
Morny  Cannon.  The  betting  was  close:  ii-io 
Macuncas,  9-4  Sly  Shot,  and  100-30  Blankney.  The 
weights  were  level,  as  all  three  were  iive-year-olds,  and 
the  distance  five  furlongs.  The  result  was  also  a  near 
thing  between  the  favourite  and  the  outsider  Blankney. 
The  latter  won  by  half  a  length,  and  when  submitted  to 
auction  he  fell  to  my  bid  of  ;^2oo. 

Soon  after  this  Macuncas  won  the  Stewards' 
Handicap  Plate  at  Hurst  Park,  and  was  knocked 
down  to  "  Jimmy  '*  Duke  for  exactly  the  same  figure 
as  it  had  cost  me  to  become  the  owner  of  Blankney. 

I  was  discussing  with  my  fellow  amateur  the  result 
of  the  previous  race  in  which  these  redoubtable  steeds 
had  met,  and  in  which  Jimmy's  new  purchase  had 
suffered  a  narrow  defeat.  He  ventured  the  opinion 
that  were  they  to  meet  again  these  positions  would  be 
reversed. 

Here  was  my  opportunity  !  I  immediately 
butted  in  with  the  proposal  of  a  friendly  and 
sporting  match.  Sir  James  rose  to  it.  He  made  no 
secret  to  his  friends  that  Macuncas  was  a  greatly 
improved  animal,  and  that  he  was  convinced  that  he 
could  outmanoeuvre  me  in  jockeyship.  But  I  had  a 
card  up  my  sleeve  which  the  sportive  owner  of 
Macuncas  had  not  taken  into  consideration. 

This  Blankney  was  a  colossal  racehorse,  one  of  the 
biggest  ever  seen  on  the  turf.  He  stood  well  over 
seventeen  hands  and  had  enormous  bone — in  fact,  the 


CHASING  AND  RACING  183 

very  ideal  of  a  weight  carrier — which  is  rather  odd, 
seeing  that  he  was  by  the  sensational  Derby  winner 
Hermit,  who  was  by  no  means  a  "  big  'un  !  *' 

On  the  other  hand,  Macuncas  was  a  medium-sized 
and  rather  lightly-built  customer,  but  a  sharp  mover, 
which  Blankney  was  not,  though  he  had  the  action 
of  a  pony,  and  when  well  under  way  could  foot  it  very 
respectably  over  five  furlongs  ;  but  was  better  at  six — 
his  limit. 

Now  I  figured  it  out  that  Blankney  could  carry 
weight  jar  better  than  the  other.  In  fact,  I  knew  that  he 
could  go  just  as  far  and  fast  with  ten  stone  on  his  back 
as  with  six  ;  for  which  reason  he  was  of  no  earthly 
use  for  trying  two-year-olds,  as  he  simply  pulverized 
the  smartest  and  most  "  classy  '*  of  them,  no  matter 
what  weight  was  heaped  on  him. 

Therefore  I  concluded  that  with  10  stone  7  lbs.  each, 
this  match  would  be  a  real  good  thing  for  mine,  pro- 
vided I  could  jump  him  off  on  decent  terms.  I  fancy 
that  at  one  time  or  another  he  had  been  badly  kicked 
at  the  post,  for  he  often  refused  to  join  his  horses  and 
line  up  properly,  though  in  other  respects  he  was  a 
model  of  decorum,  with  a  beautiful  mouth  and  manners 
— a  real  treat  to  ride  ! 

Now  this  match  had  been  arranged  to  take  place 
at  Lewes  on  the  first  day,  and  was  for  ;/^ioo  a  side,  ^nq 
furlongs.  I  had  Blankney  in  a  club  welter  at  the 
distance  named  ;  so  I  had  asked  Jimmy  if  he  would 
consent  to  the  match  being  postponed  to  the  second 


1 84  CHASING  AND   RACING 

day,  provided  that  it  could  be  so  arranged.  His  reply 
was  that  if  I  would  double  the  stakes  he  was  quite 
willing,  which  was  in  itself  a  startling  proof  of  his 
confidence  in  his  ability  to  put  "  paid  '*  to  my  account. 
Of  course  I  jumped  at  the  offer  ;  so  the  stage  was  clear 
for  the  performance.  I  had  made  a  pretty  shrewd 
guess  at  the  tactics  which  my  rival  had  decided  on. 
I  knew  he  would  try  to  cut  me  down  for  speed  in  the 
early  stages  of  running,  and  then  strive  to  keep  his 
advantage  before  Blankney's  longer  stride  could  tell 
effectively. 

But  I  did  not  calculate  on  his  allowing  me  to  take 
the  lead  at  the  start.  However,  this  is  what  he  did. 
He  lay  behind  me  for  a  couple  of  furlongs,  and  then 
tried  to  **  rush  '*  me  in  the  dip.  But  it  was  no  good. 
With  I  o  stone  7  lbs.  on  the  back  of  each,  Blankney  could 
go  faster  than  his  smaller  and  less  lusty  rival,  so  he 
passed  the  post  a  very  clever  winner  by  half  a  length 
(exactly  the  same  distance  as  separated  them  when  they 
had  previously  met,  with  professional  jockeys  up), 
never  having  been  headed  from  start  to  finish.  So 
much  for  Macuncas  ! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  T  Headbourne  Worthy  we  had  a  small  but 

/  %  fairly  useful  string  besides  Dornroschen, 

y  %L  who  was  only  at  the  home  establishment 
for  a  short  time  before  I  sent  her  on  to  Sam 
Pickering's  establishment  at  Kennet.  Trelaske  was 
the  "  daddy,'*  and  he  did  yeoman  service  as  a  trial  nag, 
besides  picking  up  a  few  nice  little  races.  I  won  the 
High  Peak  welter  (for  gentlemen  riders)  on  him  at 
Derby.  On  that  occasion  I  had  some  doughty 
opponents,  including  Arthur  Coventry  and  "  Rock." 
Going  to  the  post,  the  latter  said,  **  You  (with  the 
accent  on  the  personal  pronoun)  will  win  this,"  and 
I  did,  quite  comfortably.  The  race  was  over  the 
straight  mile.  I  jumped  off  in  front,  made  all  the 
running,  and  won  by  a  length. 

Originally  Trelaske  had  belonged  to  "  Charlie  " 
Merry,  who  chipped  me  because  I  had  entered  the  son 
of  The  Miser  in  a  two-mile  race. 

**  Why,  when  I  had  him,"  he  sneered,  *'  he  could 
not  stay  Rve  furlongs  !  " 

*'  That  is  exactly  the  reason  why  I  have  put  him  to 

long    distance    work,"  was    my  cryptic  reply,  which 

may  have  sounded  rather  paradoxical  ;   but  the  fact  is 

185 


1 86  CHASING  AND   RACING 

that  some  horses  are  gifted  with  a  turn  of  speed  which 
they  cannot  keep  up  for  more  than,  say,  four  furlongs, 
when  fully  extended.  Consequently  they  are  failures 
as  sprinters,  but  may  blossom  into  useful  customers 
over  long  distances,  because  they  are  not  put  to 
extreme  pressure  in  the  early  phases  of  a  race,  and  so 
have  a  reserve  of  speed  to  finish  with.  That  is  why 
one  of  the  best  methods  of  obtaining  smart  performers 
over  the  sticks  is  to  watch  carefully  the  five-furlong 
selling  races  during  the  "  legitimate  '*  season,  and  if 
you  see  a  youngster  out  by  itself  at  three  and  a  half  or 
four  furlongs,  but  nowhere  at  the  finish,  put  in  a  claim 
and  lay  your  purchase  by  until  the  following  season, 
when,  if  judiciously  trained  and  schooled,  it  is  almost 
certain  to  win  a  hurdle  race — of  sorts. 

I  once  ran  Trelaske  in  an  all-aged  long-distance 
handicap  (selling  race)  decided  at  Newmarket  over  the 
Caesarewitch  course.  He  ran  well,  but  found  one  of 
the  younger  generation  too  good  for  him.  I  have 
already  chronicled  how  I  won  the  match  with  him 
against  George  Thursby*s  Foghorn,  and  also  how  he 
was  just  beaten  for  The  Queen's  Prize  at  Kempton. 

Before  my  horses  were  dispersed  he  was  sold 
privately  to  Wm.  Stevens,  the  trainer,  for  "  a  monkey,** 
but  his  new  owner  had  no  luck  with  him. 

Trelaske  was  a  kind  and  amiable  creature,  but 
rather  nervous.  He  hated  the  very  sight  of  the  whip. 
To  attempt  to  get  a  bit  extra  out  of  him  by  the  use  of 
that  cruel  and  superfluous  instrument  of  torture  was 


CHASING  AND  RACING  187 

to  court  disaster.  He  had  had  some !  A  curious 
incident  once  happened  when  I  was  riding  him 
at  Lewes.  It  goes  to  show  what  extraordinarily 
retentive  memories  horses  have.  He  was  entered  in 
a  mile  and  a  half  race  which  started  on  the  remote  side 
of  the  course.  I  was  the  first  to  leave  the  paddock. 
By  way  of  giving  my  mount  a  pipe  opener  I  bowled 
him  sharply  along  the  straight.  All  of  a  sudden  he 
pulled  up  dead,  and  stuck  his  toes  in.  Nothing  I 
could  do  in  the  way  of  coaxing  or  objurgations  could 
induce  him  to  budge  an  inch.  I  now  recognized  that 
we  were  at  the  five  furlong  starting-post^  from  which 
he  had  not  raced  since  his  two-year-old  days  ;  but  he 
evidently  knew  and  recognized  it  as  the  correct  mark 
for  his  business.  By-and-by  the  rest  of  the  field 
came  cantering  past  us,  whereupon  this  rival  of 
"  Mr.  Datas "  consented  to  join  the  gay  throng. 
Incidentally  it  was  at  this  meeting,  if  my  memory  does 
not  play  me  false,  that  I  had  the  unpleasant  and  sad- 
dening experience  of  seeing  a  man  killed  by  lightning. 
Just  as  I  was  dressing,  after  a  race  in  which  I  had  taken 
part,  a  terrific  thunder-storm  broke  over  the  stands. 
A  blinding  flash  of  lightning  was  instantaneously 
followed  by  a  deafening  crash.  A  great  commotion 
at  the  entrance  followed,  I  ran  out  and  saw  that  a 
drag  with  a  pair  of  big  bays  belonging  to  Mr.  Steanning 
Beard  was  almost  out  of  hand.  As  the  coachman  was 
trying  to  master  them,  another  vivid  streak  descended. 
He  fell  off  the  box  and  lay  stilly  whilst  luckily  a  plucky 


1 88  CHASING  AND  RACING 

bobby  had  got  to  the  head  of  the  terrified  horses. 
When  we  picked  the  unfortunate  Jehu  up  he  was 
stone  dead.  At  the  back  of  his  neck  there  was  a 
charred  hole  as  if  a  red-hot  poker  had  been  thrust  into 
it.  His  nether  garments  were  tattered  and  scorched, 
the  cushion  of  the  driver's  seat  was  ripped  open,  and 
the  course  of  the  electric  fluid  could  be  traced  by  the 
destruction  of  one  of  the  spokes  of  the  off  fore  wheel, 
the  iron  tyre  of  which  was  torn  from  its  holding. 
What  a  titanic  force  is  this  which  we  dare  to  chain  to 
our  uses  ! 

To  hark  back  to  the  marvellous  memory  possessed 
by  the  equine  race.  It  will  be  remembered  that  I  had 
a  word  to  say  about  a  favourite  hunter  of  mine — 
Melbury,  to  wit — whom  I  hunted  with  my  M.  and 
H.  V.  Harriers  when  residing  at  Missenden  Abbey, 
Three  years  later ^  when  master  of  the  O.B.H.,  I  had  by 
chance  to  pass  that  ancient  landmark,  having  whipped 
off  some  six  miles  distant.  I  was  walking  the  hounds 
quietly  back  to  kennel,  when,  on  reaching  the  Abbey, 
Melbury  suddenly  turned  in  at  the  gates  and  trotted 
up  the  drive.  Out  of  curiosity  I  allowed  him  to  "  gang 
his  gait.''  Sure  enough  he  never  stopped  until  he  was 
in  the  stable  yard.  He  had  never  been  to  Missenden 
between  times. 

A  useful  and  handsome,  but  very  unlucky,  horse 
that  we  had  at  Headbourne  Worthy  was  Chevy  Chase, 
a  chestnut  by  Ossian  (winner  of  the  St.  Leger  of 
1883) — I   Spy.     I    won  only  one   race,  a  mile  and  a 


CHASING  AND   RACING  189 

half  welter  at  Croydon,  with  him,  but  he  was  second 
to  the  Caesarewitch  winner  Speed  in  the  ;^iooo  Rose 
Handicap  at  Newmarket. 

There  was  an  occasion  when  he  ought  to  have 
scored  at  Hurst  Park.  "  Squire  '*  Abingdon  was 
riding  the  favourite,  which  ran  out  six  furlongs  from 
home.  I  was  then  left  with  the  lead,  but  instead  of 
making  the  best  of  my  way  home,  I  began  to  take 
matters  easy,  to  such  an  extent  that  George  managed 
to  bring  his  mount  back  to  the  straight,  where  he 
rode  him  to  such  good  purpose  that  he  was  able  to 
pounce  upon  us  at  the  distance  and  put  **  paid  '*  to  the 
whole  bunch. 

Later,  I  was  riding  "  Chevy  "  in  one  of  the  Bibury 
**  Corinthians,*'  when  he  suddenly  stumbled  and 
stopped  as  if  shot.  Both  bag  sinews  had  gone.  Of 
course  I  dismounted,  but  it  was  with  great  difficulty 
that  the  poor  creature  hobbled  back  to  the  paddock. 
Davis  did  not  consider  his  case  hopeless,  and  so  skil- 
fully was  the  horse  treated  that  the  following  season 
he  came  out  comparatively  sound.  He  ran  in  the 
Ascot  Stakes  and  led  into  the  straight,  where  the 
old  trouble  found  him  out  and  he  broke  down  beyond 
repair. 

Another  of  my  cheap  purchases  (under  **  Lord 
Exeter's  Conditions  ")  was  a  colt  called  Andante,  who 
won  the  valuable  Orleans  Nursery  at  Sandown,  and 
other  nice  races.  As  a  three-year-old  he  was  seldom 
in  a  race  with  a  weight  that  would  permit  of  my  riding 


I90  CHASING  AND   RACING 

him.  I  had  one  go  at  Lewes  and  finished  third  in  a 
big  field.  I  had  great  hopes  of  him  in  later  days  ; 
but  he  contracted  a  fatal  stable  vice,  which  sapped  his 
strength  and  substance. 

A  little  fellow  worthy  of  note  was  one  **  Penny 
Plain,"  by  Discount — St.  Valentine  (note  the  nomen- 
clature ;  I  won  a  two-guinea  prize  for  it).  This  was 
the  first  winning  racehorse  I  ever  bred.  He  first  saw 
the  light  at  my  Chorleywood  Stud  farm.  His  sire, 
Discount,  who  won  the  1880  Portland  Plate  at  Don- 
caster,  was  given  to  me  by  Lord  Chesham  ;  but  at  the 
time,  I  had  only  a  few  galloway  and  hunter  mares  to 
put  to  him.  One  of  the  former  was  the  dam  of  Penny 
Plain.  As  she  was  incapable  of  winning  even  a  selling 
hurdle  (pony)  race,  it  says  much  for  Discount's  prowess 
as  a  sire,  or  the  excellence  of  the  Chorleywood  pastur- 
age, that  she  should  produce  a  colt  capable  of  winning 
a  couple  of  superior  selling  races  at  big  meetings. 
He  was  only  a  midget,  very  little  over  fifteen  hands, 
but  as  pretty  as  a  picture.  When  a  two-year-old 
I  gave  him  to  **  cousin  Ted,''  in  whose  colours 
he  ran  and  won.  This  emboldened  his  owner  to 
invest  in  a  useful  plater  of  the  name  of  Stanton,  with 
which  he  annexed  **  The  City  Bowl  "  at  Salisbury. 

I  have  already  explained  how — because  I  had  a 
limited  income  and  no  capital — I  was  unable  to  buy 
expensive  yearlings  on  the  *'  p'raps "  principle.  I 
had  to  content  myself  with  picking  up  undersized 
youngsters  at  the  sales  ;  or  **  platers  "  at    racecourse 


CHASING  AND  RACING  191 

auctions  that  I  considered  might  be  capable  of  develop- 
ment and  improvement  One  time  and  another  I  had 
some  funny  old  crocks  to  deal  with,  together  with  a 
wonderful  collection  of  youngsters  which  no  one  else 
would  bid  for.  But  having  regard  to  the  material 
which  I  was  able  to  command,  I  think  I  am  entitled  to 
consider  myself  to  have  been  uncommonly  lucky  as 
regards  my  selections. 

I  have  had  an  eye  for  a  horse,  hound,  or  dog  from 
my  earliest  days,  and  was  always  well  furnished  with 
that  critical  faculty  which  enables  the  expert  to  tot  up 
the  points  of  symmetry  and  balance  in  any  domestic 
animal  which  he  has  under  observation.  Perhaps  it 
was  this  gift,  plus  a  kind  of  intuition,  which  enabled 
me  to  pick  up,  for  a  mere  song,  animals  which  bore  my 
verdant  livery  with  some  sort  of  distinction.  The 
following  schedule  is  surely  a  revelation  of  cheap 
winners  of  sorts  : — 

Price  paid. 
£  s. 

*  I.  Armada,  br.  c.  by  Fermandez — Sota  di  Roma  by 

Pero  Gomez    . .         . .         . .         . .         . .         50      o 

(Winner  of  the  Tattersall  Sale  Stakes,  Newmarket. 
Beaten  a  short  head  (through  carelessness  of 
his  jockey),  in  the  Great  Metropolitan,  etc.) 

2.  Weasel,  br.  g.  121      o 

(Winner  of  8  firsts,  i  dead  heat,  i  second,  i  un- 
placed.) 

3.  Trelaske,  br.  g.  by  The  Miser 126     10 

(Winner  of  High  Peake  Welter  (Derby),  £100 
match  ;  2nd  in  Queen's  Prize,  Kempton,  etc.) 

*  Purchased  at  auction  as  yearling. 


192  CHASING  AND  RACING 

Price  paid. 
£        s. 

*  4.  DoRNROSCHEN,  ch.  f.  by  Prism — Rose  Window  . .       150      o 

(Winner  Nottingham  Autumn  Handicap,  j^iooo, 
setting  up  a  mile  time  record  which  she  held  for 
seven  years  ;  won  Portsmouth  Stakes,  Bibury ; 
2nd  Hurst  Park  Cup,  beaten  half  length, 
giving  Victor  Wild  9  lbs.,  etc.) 

5.  Blankney,  b.  h.  by  Hermit — Assegai       . .         . .       200      o 
(Won  Bibury  Welter,  £400  match,  etc.) 

*  6.  Andante,  br.  c 40      o 

(Won  the  Orleans  Nursery,  Sandown,  etc.) 

*  7.  Chevy  Chase,  ch.  h.  by  Ossian — I  Spy  . .         . .       100      o 

(Won  Corinthian  Welter,  Croydon,  and  2nd  to 
Speed  for  £1000  Rose  long  distance  Handicap, 
Newmarket.) 

*  8.  Chandelier,  ch.  c.  by  Prism — Hostess  . .         . .         35      o 

(Won  ^£200  selling  race,  Kempton.) 

*  9.  Guinevere,  b.  f.  by  Laureate  Chanthus  . .         . .         20      o 

(Won  twice  Alexandra  Palace,  etc.  In  Belgium 
she  won  over  ;£i5oo  in  stakes.) 

10.  Latimer,  ch.  g.  by  Touchet  Our  Mary.  A  gift  horse. 

(Won  Boden  Eccentric  Stakes,  Long  Distance 
Welter,  Lewes,  etc.) 

*ii.  Belle  Brummel,  by  Beau  Brummel    ...         ..         25      o 
(Won  selling  race,  Manchester,  24  runners.) 

12.  The  Reefer,  (winner  of  Chester  Cup)    . .         . .        25      o 
(Won  selling  hurdle  race,  Kempton.) 

13.  Penny  Plain,  by  Discount — St.  Valentine.         Home  bred. 
(Won  selling  race,  Kempton.) 

14.  Palmwearer,  ch.  c.  100      o 

(Won  selling  race,  ;£200,  Kempton.) 

15.  Glenquoich,  ch.  g.  ..         ..         ..         ..       100      o 

(Won  selling  hunters'  flat  race,  Windsor.) 

Total     . .         . .  t  £1092     10 


*  Purchased  at  auction  as  yearlings. 

f  These  horses  won  over  ^^5000  when  running  in  my  colours. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  193 

The  only  cheap  horses  bought  for  less  than  ^200 
which  ran  for  me  and  failed  to  win  were,  I  think,  that 
king  of  thieves  Roscidus  and  a  filly  called  Pretty  Wit ; 
but  there  were  one  or  two  which  I  bought  at  auction 
as  yearlings  which  could  not  be  trained,  including  a 
very  beautiful  filly  called  Reve  Royal,  by  Royal 
Hampton — The  Dream.  She  showed  extraordinary 
promise  and  won  a  big  trial,  but  subsequently  split 
a  pastern  and  never  ran. 

After  Dornroschen's  amazing  performance  in  the 
Portsmouth  Stakes,  I  was  encouraged  to  invest  my 
winnings  and  to  launch  out.     Lord  Rosslyn  was  selling 
his  string,  and  Sam  Pickering  was  very  keen  on  my 
buying  the  ch.  filly  Sybil  Roy,  who  had  won  a  high- 
class  two-year-old  stake  at  Newmarket,  and  another 
important  race,  also  a  rather  small  bk.  c.  called  Grong, 
who,  Sam  said,  was  sure  to  pick  up  a  nice  race.     Well, 
Sybil  Roy  was  knocked  down  to  me  for  1200  guineas, 
and  Grong  for  300  guineas.     Neither  was  ever  even 
placed    after    becoming    my    property  I     Sybil    Roy 
first  turned  jady  and  then  became  an  absolute  maniac. 
No  one  could  do  anything  with  her.     I  sold  her  as  a 
make-weight  to  the  elder  Sir  John  Thursby,  when  he 
took  over  Dornroschen,  Blankney  &  Co.     His  son 
George  afterwards  told   me  that  the  filly  had   been 
covered  by  the  last-named,  and  that  she  had  thrown  a 
foal — I   forget  its  sex — which  turned  out  as  madly 
intractable  as   its   dam.     So  much   for  my   "  invest- 

V 

ment  '*  !     A  propos  "  forgetfulness    of   sex,"  a  good 

o 


194  CHASING  AND   RACING 

story  is  told  of  Lord  Marcus  Beresford,  who  had 
become  a  proud  father  on  the  morning  of  a  fashionable 
race  meeting,  at  which  he  was  due  to  officiate  as 
starter.  He  was  cantering  to  the  post  past  the  club 
lawn,  when  he  was  hailed  by  a  fair  friend,  who  called 
after  him — 

"  Hi,  Markie,  I  hear  you  have  become  a  father 
this  morning.     Is  it  a  boy  or  a  girl  ?  " 

Turning  his  head  over  his  shoulder,  but  without 
pulling  up,  Lord  Marcus  shouted  back — 

"  I  don't  know.     I  j or  got  to  look  I '' 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BEFORE  finishing  with  horses  which  I  have 
owned  and  ridden,  I  must  say  a  few  more 
words  about  Dornroschen,  as  she  was  un- 
doubtedly the  best  class  animal  that  ever 
passed   through    my   hands   or    took   me   on    as   an 
outside  passenger. 

When  she  passed  into  the  ownership  of  the  elder 
Sir  John  Thursby  she  was  the  victim  of  one  of  the  most 
untoward  accidents  that  could  possibly  befall.  For 
the  second  year  in  succession,  she  was  entered  for  the 
Hurst  Park  Cup,  and  the  weight  allotted  was  such 
that,  if  anything  like  in  her  best  form,  she  was  "  the 
catch  of  the  season."  And  so  thought  George  of  the 
House  of  Thursby.  Twelve  months  previously,  in 
the  corresponding  event,  she  had  presented  the  all- 
conquering  Victor  Wild  with  a  lump  of  weight  and  had 
run  him  to  a  head.  The  handicapper  had  now  re- 
versed the  position,  and  Dornroschen  was  set  to  receive 
a  similar  poundage.  What  could  be  nicer,  seeing 
that  the  twain  were  of  the  same  age  ? 

The  public  view  coincided,  so  that  4-1  was  the 
best   price   obtainable.     The  filly  was  as  fit  as  the 

proverbial  fiddle,  and  everything  pointed  to  a  happy 

195 


196  CHASING  AND  RACING 

issue  for  all  concerned.  Of  course  I  was  in  the  swim, 
for  George  and  his  excellent  father  were  ever  ready  to 
"  slip  me  over  the  goods  1  " 

But  an  evil  **  hoodoo  "  was  lurking  round  the 
corner.  Literally  so,  for  on  the  field  emerging  from 
the  paddock,  which  is  situated  at  the  back  of  the 
stands,  and  therefore  out  of  view  of  the  crowd,  a  mad 
brute  called  Galloping  Dick,  belonging  to  Douglas 
Baird,  and  ridden  by  Freddie  Pratt,  suddenly  bolted 
and  barged  into  Dornroschen,  catching  her  fairly  on 
the  flank,  and  sending  her  and  her  jockey — Allsopp — 
to  the  ground,  where  they  lay  with  all  the  wind 
knocked  out  of  them.  It  was  quite  three  minutes 
before  the  filly  was  on  her  feet  again  and  Allsopp  in 
the  saddle.  Meanwhile  George  and  I,  who  were  in 
the  stand,  were  wondering  where  on  earth  Dornroschen 
could  be,  for  the  rest  of  the  field  were  already  at  the 
post.  My  companion  was  just  about  to  start  on  a 
voyage  of  discovery  when  we  viewed  our  hope  and  joy 
being  led  along  the  back  stretch. 

We  could  not  make  it  out. 

Had  the  full  significance  of  the  contretemps  been 
known  to  the  Ring,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  the 
bonnie  chestnut  would  have  "  gone  out  with  the 
washing,"  but  as  it  was,  the  price  did  not  lengthen. 

At  last  they  were  off  I  As  the  field  swung  round 
into  the  straight,  with  its  rather  short  run  in,  it  was  seen 
that  Dornroschen  was  leading  on  the  rails  and  ap- 
parently going  easily  ;   but  close  home  she  was  tackled 


CHASING  AND   RACING  197 

by  her  famous  opponent  of  yore,  Victor  Wild,  who, 
after  a  short,  sharp  tussle,  pegged  her  back  into  the 
proxime  accessit  position,  for  the  second  time  of 
asking  ! 

It  is  practically  certain  that  this  obviously  good 
thing,  on  the  book,  would  have  materialized  ;  albeit, 
as  previously  stated,  I  had  by  that  time  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  my  erstwhile  flyer  did  not  really  stay 
a  mile,  malgre  her  capture  of  the  time  record  at  that 
distance.  Moreover,  I  feel  convinced  that  after  going 
seven  furlongs  she  was  subject  to  some  spasm  or 
stitch,  which  caused  her  to  shut  up  like  a  knife,  or  to 
swerve  right  across  the  course,  for  I  am  sure  she  was 
not  a  wilful  jade,  as  some  have  supposed.  I  wonder 
how  many  race  horses  have  suffered  ignominy  and  have 
been  decorated  with  **  the  rogue's  badge  "  owing  to 
similar  causes  over  which  they  have  no  control,  and 
which  do  not,  in  any  way,  owe  their  origin  to  tempera- 
ment. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  also  wonder  how  many  shifty 
customers  are  so  created  by  the  cruel  and  injudicious 
use  of  whip  and  spur  ? 

A  propos  Dornroschen  being  "  chucked  into  "  a 
handicap,  I  recall  that  she  was  entered  as  a  three-year- 
old  in  the  Cambridgeshire,  the  same  autumn  that  she 
won  the  Nottingham  Autumn  Handicap,  in  which,  as 
stated,  she  established  the  mile  time  record.  In  the 
former  race  Major  Egerton  had  treated  her  as  if  her 
name  were  "  mud  "  or  "  dud,"  or  something  equally 


198  CHASING  AND  RACING 

contemptible,  for  he  had  actually  placed  her  at  the 
bottom  of  the  handicap  ! 

Her  success  at  Nottingham  entailed  a  14  lbs. 
penalty  for  the  great  Newmarket  race,  so  I  struck  her 
out. 

On  the  morning  when  the  latter  event  was  set 
down  for  decision,  I  ran  across  the  official  handicapper 
in  the  paddock.  "  Here,  I  say,  Cox,''  he  greeted  me 
with,  in  his  genial  way,  "  I  owe  you  a  great  debt  of 
gratitude.     How  can  I  repay  you  ?  '* 

**  As  how  ?  "  I  asked  innocently. 

**  Oh,  for  running  that  filly  of  yours,  Dornroschen, 
at  Nottingham  and  picking  up  a  penalty.  Why,  my 
dear  chap,  I  had  made  you  a  handsome  present  of 
The  Cambridgeshire,  and  you  go  and  chuck  it  away 
as  if  it  were  not  worth  your  serious  consideration." 

Well,  that  may  have  been  so  ;  I  have  felt  regrets 
myself,  and  yet  I  have  an  idea  that  the  **  extra  bit  '*  up 
the  hill  would  have  found  out  the  weak  spot  in  my 
favourite.*  On  **  the  book  "  she  undoubtedly  was, 
as  the  gallant  Major  said,  a  stone-cold  certainty  ! 

Oh  yes,  taking  all  in  all,  Dornroschen  was  as- 
suredly a  most  unlucky  animal,  but  one  of  singular 
brilliance,  when  conditions  favoured  her. 

There  was  a  time,  well  within  my  memory,  when 
every  one  believed  in  a  **  Jockey  Ring,"  and  probably 
not  without  cause,  though  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 

*  Also  there  was  the  question  of  a  suitable  pilot.    Dornros- 
chen was  not  a  "  boy's  mount." 


CHASING  AND  RACING  199 

the  pessimists  and  cynics  were  wont  to  exaggerate 
their  figuring  of  the  situation.  On  one  or  two  occa- 
sions I  myself  harboured  well-founded  suspicions,  and 
in  one  particular  instance  the  facts  were  eloquent  of 
the  truth  of  the  supposition. 

The  case  in  point  which  I  propose  to  quote  is 
gospel  ;  but  for  obvious  reasons,  names  of  all  con- 
cerned, except  my  own,  must  be  omitted. 

I  had  tried  a  youngster  which  I  owned,  to  be  pretty 
useful  in  his  class — he  was  only  a  little  one.  Let  us 
call  him  "  Ballroom.*'  I  entered  him  in  a  selling  race 
at  one  of  our  leading  suburban  meetings.  Not  having 
secured  a  jockey  I  was  making  enquiries,  when  one  of 
our  leading  artists  in  the  saddle  accosted  me,  asking  if 
I  had  engaged  any  one  to  ride  my  representative.  On 
my  answering  in  the  negative,  he  expressed  his  willing- 
ness to  be  the  pilot.  Now  this  was  a  real  top  sawyer 
among  the  jockeys  of  the  day.  We  will  name  him, 
quite  fictitiously,  "  Corfield." 

Of  course  I  jumped  at  the  offer. 

I  had  presented  my  S.P.  merchant  with  a  commis- 
sion for  "  a  pony  "  each  way  in  the  morning.  In  the 
betting  Ballroom  opened  at  5-1,  probably  on  account 
of  the  said  commission  ;  but  an  ominous  opposition 
set  in  and  he  was  driven  out  to  100-8,  in  spite  of,  or 
possibly  on  account  of,  the  "  reputation  "  (this  is 
cryptic  !)  of  his  jockey. 

There  was  a  big  field,  and  in  the  race  my  green 
jacket  was  conspicuous  in  the  ruck,  but  was  never  seen 


200  CHASING  AND   RACING 

in  a  very  prominent  position.  Ballroom  finished  about 
seventh.  Subsequently  I  asked  Corfield  what  he 
thought  of  his  mount,  and  whether  he  could  not,  by  a 
little  extra  pressure,  have  gained  the  place  for  which  I 
had  backed  my  colt,  and  which  I  had  urged  the  jockey 
to  do  his  utmost  to  secure. 

**  He's  a  very  nice  little  fellow,  Captain,"  replied 
that  worthy.  "  I  could  not  have  got  a  place,  even  if 
I  had  knocked  him  about,  and  that  would  have  been 
a  pity;  but  if  I  were  you  I  would  put  him  in  the 
overnight  seller.  I  will  ride  him  again  for  you.  He 
may  do  better  next  time.** 

I  demurred,  because  I  felt  sure  that  some  of  those 
that  had  been  well  in  front  of  Ballroom  would  be  re- 
entered ;  and  so  indeed  it  turned  out.  But  Corfield 
was  so  insistent  that  I  was  persuaded  to  fall  in  with 
his  views.  Sure  enough,  when  it  came  to  the  race  on 
the  morrow,  the  names  of  the  gees  which  had  finished 
2nd,  3rd,  and  5th  were  amongst  those  hoisted  in  the 
frame  ;  so  I  was  thoroughly  surprised  when  Corfield 
took  me  aside  and  urged  me  to  support  Ballroom  with 
my  maximum — in  vulgar  parlance  to  **  put  my  shirt  on 
him.*' 

*'  But,**  said  I,  "  there  are  at  least  three  in  the  race 
that  were  a  street  in  front  of  him  yesterday.*' 

**  That  may  be,**  replied  the  jockey,  *'  but  your 
little  fellow  ran  rather  green  ;  now  that  his  eyes  are 
open  he  is  sure  to  do  better.** 

There  was  something  in  the  argument,  but  '*  not 


CHASING  AND   RACING  201 

sufficient  to  justify  a  plunge,"  as  I  meekly  put  it  to 
Coriield. 

"  Well,  Captain,  don't  say  I  didn't  give  you  the 
office  ;  it  is  time  I  was  up."     And  away  he  went. 

I  was  left  guessing. 

I  had  not  backed  Ballroom  this  time  S.P.,  so  now 
went  into  the  ring  to  see  what  was  happening  and 
approached  Fry. 

"  What  price  mine  to  a  pony  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Five  to  two  to  you,  Capting.  Here,  5-2  on  the 
field,  who'll  have  it  ?  " 

"  You  are  off  the  line.  Fry,"  I  said.  "  I  am  not 
backing  the  favourite,     I  want  a  fair  quotation  mine'^ 

"  Which  is  yours,  Capting  ?  " 

"  Ballroom  !  " 

**  That  is  favourite.  I'll  lay  you  100-40  or  any 
part  of  it." 

''  Nothing  doing  !  " 

"  Best  have  a  bit,  Capting.  I'm  told  it's  a  cert  ; 
it'll  be  9-4  directly." 

I  took  the  100-40,  feeling  quite  bewildered. 

On  all  sides  the  **  nuts  "  and  "  fans  "  were  tumbling 
over  one  another  to  back  what  seemed  to  me,  who 
ought  to  know,  to  be  an  utterly  false  favourite. 

By-and-by  the  shout  was  7-4  on  the  field,  and 
nothing  asked  for,  except  my  inconspicuous  little 
joker. 

As  soon  as  the  flag  fell  I  could  see  the  green  jacket 
well  in  the  van,  and  at  the  distance  it  flashed  out  and 


202  CHASING  AND   RACING 

eventually  passed  the  post  quite  two  lengths  to  the 
good. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  ''  asked  Corfield,  when  he 
had  weighed  in. 

"  Oh,  you  told  me  quite  a  lot/'  I  said;  **  but  you 
did  not  tell  me  a//,     I  guessed  the  rest  !  *' 

Here,  I  say,  Captain,  I  hope  you  don't  think 


"  No,  Corfield,  I  don't  think— I  know  I  "  and  I 
turned  on  my  heel,  leaving  the  jockey  looking  unutter- 
able things. 

This  coup  had  been  cleverly  engineered.  I  had 
been  given  the  tip  all  right  (Corfield,  to  do  him  justice, 
would  never  let  an  owner  down  if  he  could  avoid  it); 
but  I  was  much  annoyed  that  the  pawn  in  the  game 
had  been  one  of  my  modest  home-trained  gees. 

It  was  in  connection  with  this  unsatisfactory  era 
of  Turf  history  that  a  certain  gentleman  trainer,  a 
great  friend  of  mine,  told  me  an  amusing  yarn. 

He  had  tried  a  two-year-old  colt  to  be  something 
out  of  the  common,  and  figured  that  he  had  quite  a 
stone  in  hand  in  a  certain  nursery. 

He  also  possessed  a  diminutive  apprentice  named, 
let  us  say,  Martin  Hannighan  (obviously  a  lad  from 
the  distressful  country),  who  had  shown  himself  to 
have  head  and  hands  and  an  excellent  seat.  So  on 
the  occasion  of  the  debut  of  this  smart  colt,  he  decided 
to  put  Martin  up  and  thus  to  reap  the  benefit  of  the 
apprentice  allowance. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  203 

When  the  midget  was  mounted,  my  friend,  him- 
self **  a  paddy,"  said  to  him,  **  Mind  ye'  here,  Martin, 
uts  winnin'  this  race  ye'll  be,  but  it's  not  be  a  length  av 
a  shtreet  !  Just  come  along  home  quiet  and  com- 
fortable, wid  just  a  length  in  front  av  the  next  to  ye. 
Is  it  understandin'  ye  are,  ye  little  gossoon  ?  " 

**  Aw  faith,  Misther  Terrance,  uts  meself  as  knows 
phwhat  ter  deu,  and  uts  doin'  ut  oi'll  be  1  " 

But  to  the  amazement  of  the  trainer-owner,  no 
sooner  was  the  **  off  "  signalled  than  Martin  was  seen 
to  shoot  his  mount  out,  and  coming  along  hell  for 
leather,  to  win  by  a  dozen  lengths.  He  entered  the 
paddock  gates  grinning  from  ear  to  ear  ;  and  here  his 
employer,  boiling  with  righteous  wrath,  met  him. 

**  OiVe  done  ut,  Misther  Terrie,"  yelped  the  lad 
in  high  glee. 

**  Done  ut  ?  "  gasped  Terrance,  "  Oi  shud  think 
ye  have  done  ut  !  YeVe  exposed  me  colt,  and  now 
phwat  chance  will  that  same  be  having  in  the  next 
handicap  ?  Phwat  did  I  tell  yez,  ye  blitherin'  little 
omadhaun  ?  I  told  ye  to  win  by  a  length  of  yez 
mount  and  not  be  the  length  av  a  shtreet  !  '* 

**  Aw  faith,  I  knows,  Misther  Terrance,"  mur- 
mured the  now  sobering  child  ;  "  but  ye  see,  whin  we 
was  loined  up,  uts  meself  as  was  squozed  in  atween 

Misther and  Misther (naming  the  Robber 

Chief  of  the  Ring,  and  his  lieutenant,  the  terror  of  the 
lesser  fry  and  apprentices,  and  the  despair  of  the  handi- 
cappers,  but  withal  very  capable  and  '*  fashionable  " 


204  CHASING  AND   RACING 

jockeys),  so  phlaze  yez  'anner  uts  meself  pwhat  thought 
oi'd  best  be  comin'  the  shortest  way  home,  the  whoilst 
ut  wuz  a  divirs  chance  they'd  be  givin'  me  !  " 

On  consideration  my  friend  whole-heartedly 
endorsed  the  policy  of  his  apprentice. 

Here  is  another  story  of  crookedness,  but  this  time 
the  alert  jockey  was  the  means  of  defeating  the  intended 
ramp  on  the  part  of  the  owner. 

I  happened  to  be  in  **  the  provinces  **  engaged  in 
the  **  gentle  art  of  the  angle,"  in  the  vicinity  of  a  local 
racecourse,  where  meetings  were  about  to  be  held 
under  N.H.  rules.  At  the  hotel  where  I  was  staying 
I  ran  across  a  certain  gentleman  rider  whose  name  was, 
let  us  say,  *'  Bob  Clasper.'*  Bob  was  **  some  "  rider 
over  sticks  and  between  flags,  believe  me  !  He  was 
dead  keen  on  the  game,  and  went  "on  circuit  '*  to  all  the 
little  country  meetings.  When  he  chanced  on  a  good 
thing  he  was  wont  to  plank  down  a  modest  stake,  and 
by  so  doing,  managed  to  pay  his  "  expenses.'*  Occa- 
sionally an  "  extra  special  "  would  induce  him  to  have 
a  splash. 

Now  I  had  done  him  a  good  turn  once  upon  a  time, 
and  he  was  so  grateful  that  he  implored  me  to  give  the 
trout  a  rest,  and  to  come  over  to  the  said  meeting,  when 
he  would  put  me  on  to  something  on  which,  as  he  put 
it,  I  could  *'  wager  my  happy  home."     He  proceeded; 

"  Cockie,  old  sport,  I  am  riding  in  "  The  Farmers' 
Steeplechase,"  the  last  race  on  the  card,  and  I  am 
sure  to  win.     My  mount  is  a  local,  a  sure  and  safe 


CHASING  AND  RACING  205 

jumper,  and  has  been  tried  to  have  a  couple  of  stone 
and  the  length  of  Wigmore  Street  in  hand." 

"  Well,  Bob,  you're  very  optimistic.  Why  the 
good  thing  is  sure  to  be  blown.  It  will  be  a  case  of 
laying  long  odds  on,  won't  it  ?  '* 

"  Oh  no,  my  Cockie  !  Trust  your  Uncle  Bob. 
He  knows  something,  and  will  engineer  it  for  all  it's 
worth." 

I  was  left  guessing — as  usual. 

Now  there  were  two  days'  racing  at  the  pitch  in 
question,  and  Bob's  wonderful  "  cinch  "  was  entered 
on  each  of  these.  When  the  betting  opened  The 
Ploughman,  as  the  horse  was  not  called,  was  a  hot 
favourite,  but  no  one  would  invest  a  penny  on  him. 
The  owner  was  looked  upon  as  *'  hot  stuff,"  and  those 
who  were  **  in  the  know  "  always  sat  tight  until  they 
sensed  that  the  stable  money  was  on. 

On  this  occasion  nothing  could  be  traced  to  the 
right  source.  The  consequence  was  that  the  lads  with 
the  pencil  began  to  open  out,  and  soon  "5-1  The 
Ploughman  "  was  offered.  All  of  a  sudden  two  quiet 
individuals,  unknown  to  local  talent,  began  snapping 
up  the  price,  and  again  the  "  tiller  of  the  soil  "  hardened 
in  price.  Meanwhile  Bob  had  weighed  out  and  was 
mounting,  when  the  owner  approached  and  addressed 
him  in  an  undertone. 

"  Look  'ee  'ere,  Muster  Clarsper,  just  canter  down 
until  ye  gits  tu  the  end  of  the  enclosure  rails.  Oi'll 
be  standin'  'undred  yards  further  down  ter  give  'ee 


2o6  CHASING  AND  RACING 

yer  instructions — see  ?  "  Bob  signified  his  assent, 
and  when  he  arrived  at  the  trysting  place,  pulled  up  and 
leaned  over  to  hear  what  his  patron  had  to  impart. 

*'  Now,  guv'nor,"  began  the  latter,  "  I  want  yer 
ter  take  pertic'ler  notice  of  wot  I  tells  yer.  A  nod*s 
as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind  'os,  ain't  it  ?  Well,  I 
don't  want  yer  to  knock  the  old  varmint  about  in  this 
race,  twiggy  voo  ?  'Es  in  the  Farmers'  Cup  ter- 
morrer,  an'  us  can  get  a  good  price.  Ter  tell  yer  the 
honest  trooth,  I  'aven't  a  bean  on  'im  for  this  yere 
journey.  You  kin  ride  'im  ter-morrer,  an'  stand  in 
fer  all  yer  wants.     I  needn't  say  no  more,  need  I  ?  " 

**  Good  gracious  1  "  exclaimed  Bob  in  well  feigned 
amazement.  **  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  have  not 
backed  the  horse  for  this  race  ?  Oh,  that's  a  great 
pity  !  If  you  haven't  backed  him,  /  have.  Five 
fifties,  old  sport  1  And  what's  more,  I'm  going  to 
win  !  "  (And  win  he  did,  in  a  common  trot.)  "  Gee 
up,  hoss  !  "  and  away  he  cantered  to  the  post. 

For  a  moment  the  owner  was  struck  dumb  and 
paralytic.  Then,  having  found  voice,  he  gave  way  to 
the  most  obscene  and  blood-curdling  invectives. 

"  Come  back  you  x-y-z  scoundrel  !  a-b-c  your 
soul  !     I'll  report  you  to  the  stewards  you  d-k-1  I  " 

Wafted  back  on  the  gentle  breeze  came  the  faint 
retort,  ''X-T-Z  scoundrel yourselj ,     Report  away  1  " 

The  following  yarn  may  be  a  chestnut,  but  it  is 
probably  new  to  some  of  the  readers,  if  there  are  any, 
of  these  rambling  reminiscences. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  207 

An  old  jockey,  of  transcendent  fame  in  his  day,  lay 
dying.  He  sent  for  his  son,  a  promising  apprentice 
attached  to  a  "  fashionable  "  stable. 

"  Robbie,  my  lad,"  he  said  in  a  feeble  voice,  *'  my 
number's  up.  I  can't  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the 
black  horse.  He's  at  my  girths — I'm  beat  to  blazes  ; 
but  before  I  weigh  in  I  want  to  give  you  a  word  of 
advice.  It  is,  never  speak  to  another  jockey  in  a  race  I  I 
did  once,  and  once  only,  and  have  regretted  it  ever 
since.  It  was  this  way,  sonnie.  Me  and  Jimmy 
Bowster  was  out  by  ourselves  in  a  mile  and  a  half  race 
at  Ally  Pally  ;  rest  of  the  field  strung  out  and  off  the 
map.  As  we  comes  round  the  bend  for  home  the 
last  time  I  shouts,  *  Go  on,  Jimmy,  /  ain^t  a  spinnin  !  ' 
*  The  'ell  you  ain't  !  '  he  sings  out.  *  No  more  ain*t 
/,'  and  off  he  falls  ^  leavin'  me  to  come  'ome  all  on  me 
lonesome  1  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

URING    the    **  eighties  *'    of    last    century 

there   appeared   on    the  **  Turf  *  a  young 

sportsman    who   attracted  a  great  deal   of 

attention.      He    was    known     as     "  The 

Jubilee  Plunger,"  though  his  correct  patronymic  was 

Ernest  Benzon. 

In  the  genesis  of  his  career  he  was  possessed  of 

very  great  wealth,  the  unrestricted  handling  of  which 

devolved  upon  him  when  he  attained  his  majority, 

which  happened  to  be  in  the  year  when  the  somewhat 

austere  Queen  Victoria  celebrated  the  jubilee  of  her 

protracted  reign  ;    hence  the  first  word  of  the  term 

bestowed  on  young  Benzon. 

It  is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at  that  his  exchequer 

attracted  the  wolves  and  hyenas  of  the  Turf  and  their 

jackal   parasites.     Poor  Ernest   soon  proved   himself 

to  be  a  striking  example  of  that  paradoxical  production 

the  *'  fly  flat."     He  rated  his  own  intellect  very  highly, 

but  was  no  match  for  the  many  devices  of  crookdom, 

which  were  directed  at  his  purse  strings,  despite  the 

fact  that  he  had  enlisted  the  personal   patronage  of 

no  less  an  expert  in  turf  and  other  matters  than  Sir 

George  Chetwynd,  who  undertook  the  oflice  of  guide, 

208 


CHASING  AND   RACING  209 

philosopher,  and  friend  to  the  youngster.  The  sporting 
baronet  did  his  best  to  shield  his  protege  from  the 
clutches  of  the  harpies,  but  Benzon  was  of  a  headstrong 
and  wilful  disposition.  He  executed  his  own  com- 
missions and  made  direct  attacks  on  the  ring  in 
propria  persona. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  became  acquainted  with 
this  tall,  slim,  and  dark  young  fellow,  whom  I  found 
to  be  cheery,  warm-hearted,  and  sympathetic  ;  more- 
over, we  shared  the  mutual  love  of  animals  and  little 
children. 

In  his  latter  days  of  adversity,  when  living  in 
Jersey,  this  excellent  trait  stood  him  in  good  stead,  for 
he  was  never  so  happy  as  when  wandering  on  the  sea- 
girt conjfines  of  that  island  with  a  troop  of  ragged 
children  and  mongrel  dogs  at  his  heels.  Before  this 
he  had  resorted  to  the  most  desperate  plunges,  generally 
in  some  selling  or  other  unimportant  event,  whereby 
he  was,  of  course,  asking  for  trouble — and  he  got  it  ! 
I  fancy  he  was  freely  fleeced  at  cards ;  but  one  of  his 
favourite  methods  of  burning  cash,  and  daylight,  was 
to  challenge  at  pyramids  those  who  were  obviously  a 
class  above  him,  as  regards  that  excellent  fighting 
game  ;  with  the  result  that,  in  some  cases,  he  had  the 
pleasure  of  winning  two  or  three  games  running,  only 
to  lose  all  the  financial  gains  he  had  so  acquired,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  his  opponent  had  made  certain  of  winning 
the  next  two^  when  the  ''Plunger''  had  quadrupled  the 
stakes  on  himself  ! 


2IO  CHASING  AND  RACING 

I  was  told  that  Benzon  was  a  pretty  good  player; 
so  one  evening  after  dinner  I  took  him  home  and  gave 
him  a  try  out  on  the  domestic  cloth  of  green.  He 
began  by  conceding  me  two  balls  off  the  table.  That 
proved  too  much  of  a  handicap.  In  the  end  we  were  a 
fair  match  when  he  owed  me  two^  at  which  I  won  four 
games  out  of  seven.  We  were  playing  for  money 
too  !  One  penny  a  ball  !  On  this  showing  I  figured 
that  he  had  overrated  his  skill,  for  I  do  not  count 
myself  much  more  than  *'  useful  "  at  the  game. 

There  came  a  time  when  this  really  nice  young 
fellow  side-slipped  ;  though  I  am  sure  the  "  crime  " 
was  committed  owing  to  thoughtless  innocence  rather 
than  through  deliberate  turpitude. 

After  he  had  **  done  in  '*  his  fortune,  a  certain 
allowance  had  been  arranged  for  him  by  his  trustees  ; 
but,  bless  you,  he  found  it  impossible  to  keep  within 
the  allotted  figures  thereof ;  consequently  he  was 
always  "  on  the  rocks."  He  happened  to  be  on  the 
Riviera  one  winter,  where,  finding  himself  cashless,  he 
resorted  to  a  very  primitive  and  foolish  method  of 
supplying  the  deficiency.  He  proceeded  to  Nice 
where  he  obtained  certain  valuable  goods  on  credit^ 
which,  when  delivered,  were  handed  over  to  Mon 
Oncle  at  Le  Mont  de  Piete^  in  exchange  for  a  wad  of 
*'  mille  "  notes.  This  escapade  led  to  his  arrest,  and 
eventually  to  his  incarceration  in  a  French  prison. 
Whilst  on  remand,  our  mutual  friend  Day  (one  of  the 
**  Daddies  *'  of  the  pigeon-shooting  cult,  who  was  a 


CHASING  AND  RACING  211 

kindly,  if  gruff,  soul)  visited  the  prisoner  at  Nice.  The 
latter  was  shown  into  the  reception-room  wearing  a 
black  cape  and  hood  which  concealed  his  features. 
Before  Day  could  say  a  word,  Benzon  shouted  out 
excitedly ; 

"  Hulloa,  Day.  Who  won  the  Grand  Prix  ? " 
(meaning  the  great  Monte  Carlo  pigeon-shooting 
event). 

The  indomitable  sporting  afflatus  was  still  alive. 
The  last  I  saw  of  this  "  curiosity  *'  was  at  Romano's. 
He  had  then  grown  fat  and  flabby,  but  not,  I  think, 
from  excess,  for  I  never  remember  to  have  seen  him  the 
worse  for  liquor.  In  fact,  as  regards  indulgence  in 
the  three  lethal  W's,  "  Wine,  Weeds,  and  Women,"  he 
was  moderation  personified  ;  but  nevertheless  he  died 
at  a  comparatively  early  age.  Those  who  regretted 
him  most  and  who  remembered  him  with  kindliest 
feelings,  were  those  who  had  benefited  kasi  by  his 
wild  gambling  and  lavish  generosity.     R.I.P.! 

There  is  an  erroneous  impression  extant  that 
"  Tod  "  Sloan  was  the  first  American  jockey  to  exploit 
the  ''  monkey  crouch  "  in  this  country.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  it  was  introduced  by  a  compatriot  of  his,  one 
Simms,  a  mulatto  or  quadroon,  who  won  several  races 
and  attracted  considerable  attention,  owing  to  what 
was  at  that  time  considered  an  extraordinary  seat. 
But  even  before  Simms  there  was  an  inconspicuous 
amateur  who  adopted  the  "  crouch  '*  in  a  modified 


212  CHASING  AND  RACING 

form.  As  late  as  1921  a  leading  sporting  paper 
published  a  par  in  words  to  the  following  effect  : 

**  An  old  race-goer  says  *  that  Harding  Cox  had  the 
worst  seat  and  the  best  hands  of  any  jockey  he  ever  saw. 
Cox  was  "crouching''  before  Sloan,  or  even  Simms, 
was  ever  heard  of."*  And  this  is  a  fact.  When  hunt- 
ing, I  rode  very  short,  and  leant  well  forward  in  my 
seat.  When  racing,  I  found  that  by  so  doing  I  avoided, 
to  a  certain  extent,  wind  pressure^  which  even  in  a  two- 
mile  hunters'  flat  race  is  very  obvious  to  the  rider. 
By  accentuating  this  position,  I  discovered  that  my 
mount  had  the  advantage  o^  freer  hind  leverage.  Per- 
haps that  is  why  I  managed  to  win  on  animals  that  had 
been  looked  upon  as  **  impossibles,"  **  back  numbers," 
rogues,  and  jades.  My  theory  was  endorsed  by  Tod 
Sloan  himself.  I  had  been  brought  into  touch  with 
the  little  man  soon  after  his  arrival  in  England,  and, 
being  greatly  interested  in  his  methods,  I  cultivated 
his  acquaintance. 

One  day,  when  we  were  seated  on  the  Terrace 
at  Monte  Carlo,  we  discussed  the  merits  of  "  the 
crouch."  Tod  not  only  discoursed  sweetly  on  the 
topic,  but  drew  a  spirited  sketch  of  a  race  horse  and 
its  anatomy,  explaining  how  the  distribution  of  weight 
under  his  system  helped  the  general  action  of  the 
animal.     He  went  on  : 

**  Say,  I  figure  that  this  seat  has  considerable 
advantage;  but  it's  no  cinch  for  any  guy  or  dud  jockey 
that  takes  a  hand.     Believe  me,  sir,  there's  nothing  to 


CHASING  AND   RACING  213 

it  unless  you  have  the  whole  bunch  of  tricks  up  your 
sleeve.  Gee,  if  you  begin  monkeying  with  the 
proposition  you're  sure  going  to  get  unstuck  !  '* 

These  words  of  wisdom  from  the  wizard  of  the 
West  have  been  amply  justified,  seeing  what  deplorable 
horsemanship  was  obvious  when  "  the  crouch  *'  came 
into  universal  use.  Sloan  managed  to  win  on  horses 
which  had  erstwhile  been  regarded  as  only  fit  for  cats* 
meat.  Apart  from  his  seat,  he  had  the  best  of  hands,  and 
always  seemed  to  be  on  most  excellent  terms  with  his 
mounts.  The  flail — as  a  means  of  exacting  an  expiring 
effort  from  a  horse  which  had  already  exerted  its  last 
normal  effort  to  win — was  *'  off  the  map  '*  as  far  as  Tod 
was  concerned,  for  he  was  a  genuine  lover  of  horse-flesh. 

He  was  a  manikin  of  brains,  and  a  keen  observer 
and  judge  of  humanity.  It  is  true  that  his  phenomenal 
success  and  the  adulation  which  it  involved,  caused  his 
cranium  considerably  to  expand;  but  if  you  could  get 
him  alone  and  in  one  of  his  more  reasonable  frames  of 
mind,  you  would  discover  in  him  a  philosopher  and  a 
wit,  broad-minded,  sympathetic,  and  with  a  heart  out 
of  all  proportion  to  the  body  which  contained  it. 

It  had  been  supposed  that  Sloan's  disappearance 
from  active  connections  with  the  Turf  was  due  to  his 
being  "  warned  off."     Such,  however,  was  not  the  case. 

He  had  been  indulging  in  heavy  betting  on  one 
of  his  mounts,  Codoman,  on  which  he  "  had  a  hunch  '* 
that  he  was  sure  to  win  the  Cambridgeshire. 

This  was,  strictly  speaking,  against  a  rule,  which, 


214  CHASING  AND  RACING 

if  not  actually  winked  at  by  the  authorities,  was  certainly 
more  honoured  in  the  breach  than  in  the  observance 
by  contemporary  jockeys.  The  good  thing  came  un- 
stuck by  a  narrow  margin.  Tod  not  only  "  dropped  a 
packet,"  as  the  saying  goes,  but  was  discreetly  advised 
not  to  apply  for  a  renewal  of  his  riding  license.  So  that 
he  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  "  warned  off.'*  A 
distinction  with  a  subtle  difference  ! 

When  he  returned  to  his  native  **  States  ''  he  was 
on  the  down  grade.  I  heard  of  him  in  "  'Frisco  "  as 
running  a  billiard  saloon,  and  using  the  hard  and 
verdant  board  as  his  nightly  couch.  He  married  an 
exceedingly  bright  and  attractive  little  compatriot, 
to  wit,  the  popular  musical  comedy  actress,  Julia 
Sanderson  ;  but,  alas,  I  fear  that  he  did  not  ride 
strictly  to  orders,  for  in  this  case  he  really  was  "  warned 
off"  in  the  Divorce  Court  ;  or  perhaps  the  boot  was 
on  the  other  leg.     I  forget  ! 

On  one  occasion  Tod  was  cantering  to  the  post  at 
Kempton  on  a  mare  called  Esmeralda  II.,  when  that 
sportive  beast  suddenly  stuck  her  toes  in,  in  front  of 
the  Grand  Stand;  whereupon  the  great  little  jockey  cut 
the  most  elegant  A.O.T.  (Artistic  Over  Turn)  as  ever 
was,  and  passionately  embraced  Mother  Earth,  much 
to  the  amusement  of  the  crowd. 

I  have  often  had  occasion  to  allude  to  Captain 
"  Roddy  "  Owen.  Many  a  good  story  is  told  of  this 
accomplished  soldier  and  horseman,  who  was  the  best 
of  good  fellows. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  215 

On  one  occasion  he  was  riding  in  a  steeplechase  in 
which  there  was  only  one  other  runner.  About  three 
fences  from  home,  Roddy's  mount  "  sat  down,"  and, 
becoming  detached  from  its  rider,  scampered  off  out 
of  the  course  as  soon  as  it  had  regained  its  legs, 
leaving  its  erstwhile  rider  disconsolate. 

So  the  latter's  opponent  went  on  his  own  sweet 
way  ;  but  lo  !  at  the  next  fence  his  gee  refused,  and  in 
spite  of  vigorous  persuasion  persisted  in  remaining  on 
the  wrong  side  of  it.  A  stalwart  policeman,  mounted 
on  a  hairy-heeled  weight  carrier,  scenting  trouble,  had 
galloped  to  administer  first  aid  to  the  disgruntled 
Roddy,  who,  seeing  what  had  befallen  his  rival,  im- 
mediately commandeered  the  ponderous  steed  of 
authority  and  proceeded  to  give  chase  to  his  own 
derelict,  which,  after  an  exciting  run,  he  succeeded  in 
capturing.  Having  changed  mounts  he  turned  the 
base-born  gee  adrift  and  hied  him  back  to  the  race- 
course, just  as  the  other  guy  was  making  the  sixth  futile 
attempt  to  surmount  the  final  fence.  In  a  flash  Roddy 
was  upsides,  and  then  over  the  obstruction  in  a  twink- 
ling, and  although  the  recalcitrant  one  accepted  the 
lead,  the  Captain  got  first  run  and  landed  the  race 
cleverly. 

Although  Roddy  was  continuously  in  the  saddle 
he  did  not  neglect  his  soldiering.  He  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  an  exceptionally  smart  officer.  But  on 
one  occasion  there  was  in  orders  a  very  important 
inspection,  when  our  hero's  application  for  leave  (usually 


2i6  CHASING  AND  RACING 

granted  freely,  because  the  Mess  to  a  man,  including 
the  CO.,  usually  had  its  bit  on  Roddy's  mount)  was 
peremptorily  refused. 

What  was  to  be  done  ? 

He  had  been  promised  a  ride  on  something  "  extra 
good  "  for  a  big  hurdle  race  at  Kempton.  This  was  a 
chance  that  could  not  possibly  be  missed  ;  but  he  sat 
tight  ! 

When,  on  the  morning  of  the  race,  the  regiment 
was  drawn  up.  Master  Roddy  came  on  parade  riding 
a  new  charger,  which  seemed,  strangely  enough,  to 
be  quite  unmanageable,  even  in  the  expert  hands  of 
its  rider. 

No  sooner  did  the  band  strike  up  the  regimental 
march,  than  Roddy's  mount  took  charge — bolted,  and 
suddenly  receded  from  view  in  the  direction  of  the 
station, 

Roddy  rode  at  Kempton  that  day  and  won  his  race 
all  right,  to  the  general  rejoicing  of  all  ranks  of  his 
corps.  The  CO.,  however,  thought  it  incumbent  on 
him  to  "  tell  off"  the  backslider. 

**  Captain  Owen,"  he  said,  "  you  may  be  a  very 
capable  amateur  jockey,  but  I  should  advise  you  to 
take  some  lessons  in  military  riding  from  your  sergeant- 
major  !  " 

Roddy  smiled.  "  Hope  you  had  a  good  race, 
sir  !  " 

"  Oh,  pretty  well,  thank  you,  Roddy,  pretty  well." 
Then  in  an  altered  tone,  **  Here,  what  the  devil  do 


CHASING  AND  RACING  217 

you  mean,  sir  ?     I  don't  know  what  you're  talking 
about.'* 

It  was  in  1892  that  I  hied  me  to  Aintree  in  hope  of 
killing  two  birds  with  one  stone,  viz.  the  winning  of 
the  County  Cup  on  Trelaske,  and  witnessing  the  Grand 
National.  The  first  consideration  failed  to  materialize 
by  a  length,  though  I  was  proxime  accessit ;  but  I  viewed 
the  great  cross-country  event  complacently. 

The  previous  evening,  after  racing,  I  came  across 
Roddy  and  offered  him  a  lift  in  my  carriage — there 
were  no  cars  in  those  days — back  to  the  Adelphi, 
Liverpool,  where  we  were  both  staying. 

"  Thanks,  Cockie,"  he  said,  "  but  I  won't  ride. 
I'll  shove  on  a  sweater  and  just  hang  on  behind.  I'm 
2  lbs.  above  weight  for  to-morrow  (he  was  to  ride 
Father  O'Flynn  at  10  stone  5  lbs.),  that  ought  to  do  the 
trick."  And  sure  enough  it  did,  for  he  was  in  a 
profuse  sweat  by  the  time  we  reached  our  haven  of  rest. 
After  a  bath  and  a  rub  down  he  found  to  his  joy  that 
the  **  too  solid  flesh  "  had  melted,  so  that  on  the  morrow 
he  was  able  to  do  the  weight  easily,  and,  what  is  more, 
to  win  "  the  Blue  Ribbon  of  the  Leppers  "  in  gallant 
fashion,  as  history  relates.  Of  course  I  backed  my 
friend's  mount  "  each  way,"  and  packed  up  a  nice  little 
parcel. 

Poor  Roddy  !  his  was  a  squalid  end  ;  for,  all  too 
young,  he  contracted  cholera  when  on  military  service 
in  Egypt,  and  perished  miserably. 

''  Truly  a  very  gallant  gentleman  !  " 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEN  I  am  asked  what  are  the  most  thrill- 
ing finishes  I  have  ever  witnessed, 
three  heroic  struggles,  which  stand  out 
conspicuously,  leap  to  my  mind. 
The  first  of  these  was  the  desperate  set-to  between 
Melton  and  Paradox,  in  the  Derby  of  1885.  The 
latter  had  won  "  The  Guineas,"  in  which  Archer  was 
his  pilot  ;  but  when  it  came  to  the  great  Epsom  event 
**  the  Tinman  ''  was  on  the  back  of  Melton,  whilst  Fred 
Webb  steered  Paradox.  The  twain  ran  locked  to- 
gether from  the  distance,  and  curiously  enough,  in  the 
centre  of  the  course,  instead  of  under  the  far  rails  as  is 
generally  the  case.  Horses  and  jockeys  were  of  the 
best  quality,  and  the  issue  was  fought  out  to  the  bitter 

end. 

It  has  been  said  that  Archer  could  have  won  on 

either,  but  Webb  could  not  go  on  without  his  horse,  and 

it  is  probable  that  Melton  was,  on  that  particular  day, 

the  better  racehorse  of  the  two,  though  by  the  narrowest 

possible  margin.     It  is  certain  that  Paradox  lacked 

nothing  in  the  way  of  jockeyship.     I  was  so  engrossed 

in  the  struggle  that  I  did  not  see  the  rest  of  the  field,  and 

whenever  I  try  to  visualize  the  scene,  it  always  recurs 

218 


CHASING  AND   RACING  219 

to  my  mind's  eye  as  a  match  in  which  no  other  runners 
had  any  part  whatever,  a  strange  delusion  which  repeats 
itself  when  I  recall  the  brief  but  exciting  rally  between 
Ormonde  and  The  Bard  in  1886. 

Both  these  faced  the  starter  as  holders  of  an  un- 
beaten certificate.  The  latter  had  commenced  his 
career  by  taking  the  Brocklesby  Stakes.  Very  few  of 
those  that  figure  as  winners  of  this  early  juvenile  event 
have  greatly  distinguished  themselves  in  after  days — 
Donovan,  Semolina,  Simonian,  and  Jest  being  some  of 
the  exceptions — but  The  Bard  went  on  from  one  success 
to  another — nine  wins  in  all,  I  believe — before  he  met 
his  Waterloo  in  the  Derby.  On  the  other  hand, 
Ormonde  had  only  been  out  three  times.  As  a  two- 
year-old  he  had  won  the  Criterion  Stakes  and  the  Dew- 
hurst  Plate  at  Newmarket,  and  had  signalized  his  re- 
appearance the  following  spring  by  **  slamming " 
Minting,  Mephisto,  Saraband  and  Co.  in  *'  The 
Guineas,"  as  if  they  had  been  a  lot  of  hacks. 

I  shall  never  forget  Matt  Dawson's  face  when  he 
saw  **  The  Boy  in  Yellow  "  draw  away  from  the  violet 
and  white  of  Mr.  Vyner,  as  carried  by  Minting. 
"  Well,  I'm  blessed  1  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  thought  I 
had  the  best  I  ever  trained,  and  quite  unbeatable  ;  but 
mercy  on  me  1  what  sort  of  a  colt  is  this  fellow  of 
John's  ?  "  (Porter's). 

But  to  return  to  The  Bard.  My  kind  friend  and 
patron.  Lord  Chaplin,  once  publicly  stated  that,  in  his 
opinion,  this  was  the  handsomest  racehorse  he  had  ever 


220  CHASING  AND  RACING 

seen.  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  agree  ;  true  the  roan- 
chestnut  was  well  knit,  symmetricalj  and  full  of  quality, 
but  he  was  only  a  little  chap  after  all,  and  lacked  the 
impressive  grandeur  of  some  of  his  kind. 

Watching  the  race  for  the  Derby  very  carefully,  it 
seemed  to  me  that,  just  for  a  moment,  Archer  had  to 
shake  up  Ormonde  in  order  to  stall  off  his  diminutive 
rival,  and  this  view  the  jockey  endorsed  when  I  asked 
him  what  he  considered  was  the  greatest  racehorse  he 
had  ever  ridden.  His  answer  was  in  words  to  this 
effect  : 

**  It  is  hard  to  say,  sir,  but  it  is  between  St.  Simon 
and  Ormonde.  I  did  have  to  ask  the  latter  a  little 
question  when  we  were  alongside  The  Bard,  but  St. 
Simon  was  never  out  of  a  hand  canter  in  any  of  his  races. 
Still,  I  should  not  like  to  say  he  was  a  better  horse  than 
Ormonde,  who  had  some  very  hot  stuff  to  beat,  whereas 
St.  Simon  I  doubt  was  ever  up  against  anything  extra 
special." 

But  I  am  not  quoting  the  Ormonde-The  Bard 
incident  as  an  example  of  a  real  nerve-racking  finish, 
for  once  Ormonde's  great  stride  had  asserted  itself  the 
race  was  all  over.  By  the  way,  I  think  there  must  be 
something  unlucky  about  the  pronoun  "  The "  as 
regards  The  Derby.  I  believe  I  am  right  in  stating 
that  no  horse  with  that  prefix  has  ever  annexed  "  The 
Blue  Ribbon.''  The  Bard  and  The  Baron  failed, 
whilst,  alas.  The  Tetrarch  yielded  to  the  exigencies  of 
training   before   he   had   a   chance   of  demonstrating 


CHASING  AND   RACING  221 

whether  he  could,  or  could  not,  stay  the  Derby  course. 
The  contingency  is  certainly  open  to  argument  if  not 
to  doubt. 

But  Ormonde  figures  in  the  next  of  my  "  specials.** 
Having  won  the  Derby,  he  went  to  Ascot  and  carried 
off  The  Hardwicke  Stakes  with  8  stone  8  lbs.  up,  and 
the  following  year,  although  by  that  time  a  confirmed 
roarer,  he  again  contested  the  race,  in  which  he  threw 
down  the  gauntlet  to  his  great  rival  Minting,  the 
popular  idol  Bendigo,  and  an  animal  of  Noel  Fen  wick's, 
called  Phil. 

On  this  occasion  Tom  Cannon,  senr.,  had  the 
handling  of  the  Duke  of  Westminster's  champion, 
whilst  Johnny  Osborne  was  "  up  '*  on  Minting.  Here, 
again,  after  a  cursory  glance  at  Bendigo,  for  the  sake  of 
Auld  Lang  Syne,  my  attention  was  riveted  on  the  two 
giants.  From  the  Swinley  corner  it  was  a  case  of  six 
of  one  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  other.  The  excitement 
was  intense  !  First  a  subdued  murmur,  then  a  distinct 
hum,  and  finally  a  roar  came  from  the  crowd,  as  it  was 
seen  that  neither  horse  could  get  away  from  the  other  ; 
and  so  they  ran  from  the  distance,  locked  together,  to 
the  accompaniment  of  frantic  shouts  and  gesticulations. 
I  was,  happily,  so  placed  that  I  could  anticipate  the 
judges'  verdict,  but  I  dare  venture  to  assert  that  half 
the  crowd  thought  that  the  two  zeros  *  would  be 
hoisted  side  by  side. 

Now,  when  it  is  considered  that  the  Hardwicke  is 
*  Signifying  a  dead  heat. 


222  CHASING  AND   RACING 

run  over  one  of  the  severest  one  and  a  half  miles  in  the 
country,  and  that  poor  Ormonde  was  by  then  terribly 
afflicted  in  the  wind,  it  will  be  realized  what  a  tre- 
mendous flyer  he  was  in  every  particular.  No  horse, 
unless  possessed  of  unflinching  courage  and  perse- 
verance, could  have  thus  triumphed  over  such  a  smasher 
as  Minting,  who  the  following  Spring  carried  lo  stone 
to  victory  in  The  Kempton  Jubilee,  and,  what  is  more, 
galloped  clean  away  from  a  big  and  representative  field. 

My  third  nerve-twister  occurred  at  Sandown  in 
1903,  when  the  great  and  glorious  Sceptre,  Ard 
Patrick  (the  Derby  winner  of  the  previous  year),  and 
Rock  Sand  (the  then  latest  winner  of  the  world's 
greatest  race)  were  in  opposition.  In  the  paddock  the 
Oaks  heroine  and  Derby  hero  of  1 902  quite  threw  into 
the  shade  the  last  named,  who  appeared  mean  and 
undersized  in  comparison  with  the  slashing  four-year- 
olds. 

There  is  a  well-worn  aphorism  which  says,  **  hand- 
some is  as  handsome  does.''  In  this  case  handsome  is 
did  it  handsomely,  for  poor  little  Rock  Sand  had  to  be 
content  with  a  view  of  the  tails  of  his  giant  rivals  from 
start  to  finish.  Madden  rode  Ard  Patrick,  and  Frank 
Hardy  Sceptre.  Without  in  any  way  challenging  the 
efficiency  of  the  latter  jockey,  those  best  qualified  to 
judge  all  agree  with  me  that  it  was  Madden's  supreme 
effbrt  which  landed  Jack  Gubbins'  handsome  colt  a 
winner  by  the  shortest  of  heads.  When  I  state  that 
Hardy  had  been  far  from  well  for  some  time  before  the 


CHASING  AND   RACING  223 

race,  his  effort  to  stall  off  the  more  powerful  Madden 
did  him  infinite  credit. 

Incidentally  I  may  mention  that  I  was  one  of  the 
first  to  recognize  Madden's  merits,  when  as  a  stable  lad 
his  mounts  were  few  and  far  between.  I  think  I  must 
have  had  some  faculty  for  scenting  out  likely  but  in- 
conspicuous lads,  who  frequently  became  *'  fashion- 
able '*  jockeys,  such  as  (in  addition  to  Otto  Madden) 
Walter  Bradford  and  T.  J.  Calder,  some  of  whose 
earliest  rides  were  when  garbed  in  my  green.  In  fact 
Bradford  made  his  debut  therein. 

It  was  in  the  Northamptonshire  Stakes,  in  which  I 
was  running  Armada.  I  had  expected  his  usual  jockey, 
Allsopp,  to  be  available,  but  at  the  last  moment  he  was 
engaged  for  Silver  Ring  (I  think  that  was  the  filly's 
name)  by  "  Leo  "  Rothschild,  who  had  first  claim  on 
his  services.  I  was  in  a  fix,  when  Fred  Webb  offered 
to  help  me  out  of  the  dilemma  by  producing  a  midget 
apprentice,  who  looked  as  if  you  could  put  the  whole  of 
him,  with  the  exception  of  his  knowledge  box,  into  a 
pint  pot  I  I  had  my  doubts,  as  Armada  was  given  to 
catching  hold.  However,  as  Webb  assured  me. that 
his  little  box-o*-tricks  could  thrash  any  lad,  no  matter 
what  his  weight,  in  his  (Webb's)  stable,  I  accepted  the 
o&tr  faute  de  mieux^  but  was  not  over-happy,  because  I 
fancied  my  horse  not  a  little,  and  had  supported  him 
freely  "  each  way.'' 

Then  came  the  question  of  breeches,  boots,  and 
colours.     Allsopp  had  not  brought  his  set,  but  Prince 


224  CHASING  AND   RACING 

happened  to  have  one  of  my  own  with  him — my  size  ! 
Webb's  breeches  came  almost  to  the  child's  chin,  and 
his  boots  were  like  unto  the  seven  league  leathers  of 
Jack  the  Giant  Killer.  They  had  to  be  strung  to  his 
waist  by  pieces  of  cord;  whilst  my  cap  almost  extin- 
guished him,  so  much  so,  that  when  he  was  being 
weighed  out,  old  "  Ben  "  Loates  called  out,  **  Now 
then  young  shaver,  come  out  of  that  cap.  I  know 
you  are  in  it  ;   I  can  see  your  toes  sticking  out  !  '* 

Well,  Armada  was  kept  well  in  hand  by  the  boy,  and 
it  was  not  his  fault  that  my  colt  was  baulked  by  a  horse 
falling  in  front  of  him  at  a  critical  moment.  As  it  was, 
the  tiny  jockey  gathered  Armada  up  and  made  a  clean 
jump  over  the  prone  steed  and  his  rider,  but  he  just 
failed  to  get  a  place.  Afterwards,  as  I  have  already 
chronicled,  Armada  lost  the  Great  Metropolitan  owing 
to  a  most  exasperating  piece  of  carelessness  on  the  part 
of  his  rider,  who  on  that  occasion  was  not  Walter 
Bradford,  who  turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  cleverest, 
most  intelligent,  modest,  and  charming  of  the  riders 
of  his  day.  He  was  always  a  great  favourite  of 
mine. 

Apropos  Ard  Patrick  and  Sceptre,  the  great  struggle 
for  **  The  Eclipse,"  when  both  were  four-year-olds, 
seems  a  pointer  to  the  opinion,  which  has  been  so  freely 
expressed,  that  the  mare  should  have  been  much  nearer 
to  winning  the  Derby  than  she  was.  No  one  was 
more  surprised  and  disappointed  than  the  owner  at  her 
moderate  showing  in  that  race.     That  she  was  one  of 


CHASING  AND   RACING  225 

the  most  brilliant  mares  that  ever  trod  the  turf  there  is 
no  gainsaying.  I  had  backed  her  for  "  The  Derby  " 
with  great  confidence,  but  happened  to  meet  the  Prince 
of  Wales  in  the  Club.  H.R.H.  greeted  me  with, 
**  Well,  what  have  you  backed  ?  "  When  I  told  him 
he  shook  his  head.  "  I  think  you  are  wrong  ; 
Gubbins  tells  me  that  his  horse  (Ard  Patrick)  is  sure  to 
win  !  " 

Now  I  had  not  seen  my  friend  "Jack'*  that  morning, 
but  we  were  fellow  clubmen  of  long  standing,  and  he 
was  ever  ready  to  give  me  "  the  office."  However,  I 
laid  ofF  on  his  horse  sufficient  to  cover  my  investments 
on  Sceptre,  and  for  this  "  save  ''  I  had  to  thank  the 
then  Heir  Apparent.  Although  I  did  not  get  **  the 
goods  '*  direct  from  the  owner  on  this  occasion,  I  had 
once  a  straight  tip  from  Jack  Gubbins,  which  brought 
greatly  appreciated  grist  to  my  financial  mill,  though  I 
had  to  pay  top  price  for  it  ! 

I  was  discussing  the  great  game  with  my  genial 
Irish  friend  and  his  bosom  pal  Ralph  Palliser  at  that 
now  defunct  but  once  popular  "  pot-house,"  The 
Raleigh  Club  (Peace  to  its  precincts  !),  shortly  before 
"  The  Guineas  "  of  1897,  when  the  former,  following 
the  Hibernian  habit  of  answering  one  question  by 
asking  another,  in  reply  to  my  query  as  to  Galtee 
Morels  chance  of  winning  the  first  of  the  classics,  asked, 
**  Would  you  be  backin'  Kilcock  if  he  were  in  the 
race  ?  " 

**  What,  at  weight  for  age  ?  "  I  queried. 

Q 


226  CHASING  AND   RACING 

**  Weight  for  age  ?  Aw  no  !  Even  weights,  be 
Gob  !  " 

Now  Kilcock,  then  a  four-year-old,  was  about  the 
smartest  miler  of  his  day. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me ?  '' 

"  Faith  and  I  do,  me  bhoy  ;  ut's  the  treuth  Fm 
tellin'  *  ye,*  is  it  not  so,  Ralph  ?  '*  appealing  to  his 
Jidus  Achates, 

The  ponderous  Palliser  signified  his  endorsement 
of  the  startling  intelligence.  This  was  good  enough 
for  me  !  I  backed  Galtee  for  the  race  in  question, 
"  Accumulated  ''  on  "  The  Derby,'*  and  completed  a 
useful,  if  not  very  prolific,  treble,  when  that  gallant 
steed  annexed  the  third  and  last  jewel  of  "  The  Triple 
Crown  "  on  Doncaster's  Town  Moor. 

Galtee  More,  who  was  by  Kendal  (said  to  have  been 

the  only  horse  that  ever  got  his  head  in  front  of  the 

mighty  Ormonde's — in  a  home  trial,  be  it  stated),  was 

never  beaten  in  public.     I  have  been  trying  to  think  of 

others  in  my  time  that  hold  a  similar  record,  without 

counting  two-year-olds,  who  won  a  race  or  two  and 

then    disappeared  from  the  scene.     At  the  moment 

I  can  only  recall    St.  Simon,  Ormonde,  Polar    Star, 

Barcaldine,    Suspender,    Galtee    More,    Hurry    On, 

Kincsem,  and  that  wonderful  colt  The  Tetrarch.     The 

last  named,  it  is  true,  ran  only  as  a  juvenile,  but  had  a 

brave  string  of  victories  to  his  credit,  with  one  exception 

all  gained  with  consummate  ease,  the  said  exception 

being    in    The    National    Breeders'    Foal    Stakes    at 


CHASING  AND  RACING  227 

Sandown  in  19 13.  On  this  occasion  "The  Spotted 
Wonder,**  or  "  Rocking  Horse,"  as  he  was  some- 
times called,  reared  on  end  as  the  tapes  flew  up.  This 
lost  him  several  lengths,  but  such  was  his  great  stride 
and  terrific  speed,  that  he  was  able  to  make  good, 
though  only  by  a  neck  ! 

There  was  a  general  bewailing  when,  in  the  follow- 
ing spring,  it  was  announced  that  Captain  McCalmont's 
flyer  had  done  his  last  gallop.     That  same  expansive 
stride  was  his  undoing,  for  when  at  full  stretch  he  was 
apt  to  strike  one  of  his  fore-fetlock  joints  with  his  hind 
hoofs,   so  that  in  the  course  of  time  the  inevitable 
happened  and  the  British  public  saw  their  idol  no  more. 
There  were  those  at  that  time,  and  now  there  are 
more,  who  declare  that  The  Tetrarch  would  under  no 
circumstances  have  won  the  Derby.     Their  argument 
was  that  no  colt  with  such  phenomenal  speed  could 
possibly  possess  stamina  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  stay 
the    Derby    Course.     Now,    without    admitting    the 
cogency  of  this  theory,  I  myself  have  reason  to  doubt 
if,  had  he  run.  The  Tetrarch  would  have  triumphed  at 
Epsom.     My  reason  being  based  on  his  pedigree,  not 
so  much  on  the  side  of  his  sire,  Roi  Herode  (for  the  Le 
Samaritain,    Le    Sancy    line    of  **  Greys,"    could    be 
depended  upon  to  stay  a  mile  and  a  half,  and  often  up 
to  two  miles),  but  because  there  is  a  blemish  in  the 
escutcheon  of  his  dam  Vahren,  who  was  out  of  Catania 
— a  daughter  of  Rose  Garden — the  dam  of  my  brilliant 
but  non-staying  Dornroschen.     Catania  never  won  a 


228  CHASING  AND   RACING 

race,  and  Rose  Garden  was  little  more  than  a  pony. 
Dornroschen  was  by  Prism  (a  son  of  Speculum),  a  re- 
markably handsome  horse,  but  only  a  sprinter  ;  whilst 
Catania  was  by  Speculum  himself  ;  and  though  it  may 
be  urged  that  the  substitution  of  the  father  for  the  son 
should  have  ensured  stamina,  the  fatal  female  line 
betrays  the  weak  spot  which  caused  the  eighth  furlong 
of  the  mile  to  be  a  sore  trial  and  tribulation  to  Dorn- 
roschen, and  one  which  more  than  once  proved  her 
undoing.  It  is  therefore  possible  that  her  "  nephew  " 
may  have  inherited  a  similar  failing. 

This  supposition  is  emphasized  by  the  fact  that 
The  Tetrarch*s  son,  the  brilliant  Tetratema,  was  one  of 
the  Dornroschen  kidney.  He  could  "  catch  swallows,'* 
as  the  saying  goes,  at  six  and  seven  furlongs,  and 
though  he  did  manage  to  win  "  The  Guineas,''  it  took 
him  all  his  time  to  peg  back  Silvern,  whom  he  could 
have  lost  over  a  shorter  cut.  Rose  Garden  was  by 
Kingcraft  (winner  of  the  Derby,  1870) — Eglantine  by 
Hermit;  a  pedigree  which  does  not  suggest  lack  of 
stamina  ;  but  the  kink  must  be  there  or  thereabouts; 
though  it  maybe  due  to  some  remote  atavistic  influence.* 

There  are  many  cases  of  great  racehorses  which  have 
been  beaten  but  once.     Two  conspicuous  examples  are 

*  Since  these  remarks  were  written  two  sons  of  The  Tetrarch 
have  won  the  St.  Leger — to  wit  Caligula  (1920)  and  Polemarch 
(1921) ;  whilst  another  son,  Chand,  won  an  important  2j-mile 
race  in  France,  besides  several  big  lepping  events  over  a  dis- 
tance of  ground.  So  it  seems  as  if  the  suspicion  of  lack  of 
stamina  in  "  The  Spotted  Wonder's  "  stock  was  ill  founded. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  229 

Isonomy  and  his  son  Isinglass.  I  was  near  to  writing 
down  the  former  as  one  of  the  select  order  of  the  un- 
defeated, but  then  remembered  that  though  he  won 
the  Cambridgeshire  in  1878;  the  following  year,  carry- 
ing a  prohibitive  burden,  he  could  do  no  better  than 
register  "  a  place  "  in  a  field  of  thirty-one  runners, 
when  La  Merville  won.  Isonomy  was  undoubtedly  a 
great  horse,  one  of  the  greatest  ever  seen  on  the  Turf. 
The  last  glimpse  I  had  of  him  was  when  he  was  sent  up 
for  sale  to — of  all  places  in  the  world — Albert  Gate  1 

To  begin  with,  he  was  not  a  great  success  as  a  sire ; 
but  as  time  went  on  he  altered  that,  and  has  become  a 
veritable  pillar  of  The  Stud  Book.  His  son  Isinglass, 
who  was  a  triple-crowned  hero  in  1893,  was  likewise 
defeated  once,  and  once  only. 

He  was  a  great,  good-natured  beast  that  delighted 
in  making  a  race  with  anything  !  I  think  he  must  have 
derived  some  telepathic  amusement  by  racking  the 
nerves  of  those  supporters  who  were  not  aware  of  this 
idiosyncrasy.  Tommy  Loates  was  his  usual,  maybe 
his  only,  pilot,  and  he  understood  the  hefty  bay 
thoroughly.  In  nearly  every  race  the  horse  ran,  the 
cry  would  go  up  "  Isinglass  's  beat  !  "  when  Tommy 
was  seen  hustling  Mr.  McCalmont's  steed  for  all  he 
was  worth  (apparently)  ;  but.  Lord  love  you  !  not  a 
bit  of  it  !  When  the  psychological  moment  arrived, 
or  when  it  suited  his  fancy,  the  *'  bit  up  the  sleeve  " 
would  pop  out,  and  in  a  few  strides  the  race  would  be 
won  ! 


230 


CHASING  AND  RACING 


I  had  a  long  innings  on  the  turf,  not  only  as  an 
owner  and  rider,  but  as  an  onlooker.  I  have  been 
asked  on  many  occasions  to  name  the  best  horses  and 
mares  which  I  have  seen  performing  in  public.  Here 
is  my  list,  which  I  may  term  my  **  XIs '': 


Classic  Colts  : 

Ormonde 

Persimmon 

St.  Simon 

Ard  Patrick 

Galtee  More 

Minting 

Foxhall 

Flying  Fox 

Isinglass 

Orme 

The  Tetrarch 

Reserves  : 

Meniian 

Spearmint 

Bend  Or 

St.  Frusquin 

Sunstar 

N.B. — I  never  saw  Barcaldine  or  Isonomy  run  ; 
but  they  are  always  held  to  have  been  veritable 
smashers;  though  Barcaldine  was  a  wayward  and 
ill-tempered  one. 

I  have  not  placed  these  in  the  order  of  what  I  con- 
sider their  respective  merit,  though  had  I  ventured 
to  do  so,  the  first  two  named  would  be  bracketed  at  the 
head  of  the  list. 


<c 


>> 


Handicappers 
Polar  Star 
Minting 
Merman 
Victor  Wild 
Irish  Elegance 
Foxhall 


(some  of  whom  were  also  cup  horses)  : 
Bendigo 

The  White  Knight 
Queen's  Birthday 
Willonyx 
Polymelus 


CHASING  AND   RACING 


231 


Reserves  : 

Tristan 

Tyrant 

Dean  Swift 

Cup  Horses  : 

Persimmon 

Tristan 

Bachelor*s  Button 

William  the  Third 

St.  Simon 

Isinglass 

The  White  Knight 

St.  Gatien 

Merman 

Prince  Palatine 

Isonomy 

Buchan 

Classic  Fillies  : 

Wheel  of  Fortune 

Tagalie 

Pretty  Polly 

Kincsem 

Geheimniss 

Sceptre 

Signorina 

Kermesse 

La  Fleche 

Memoir 

Diadem 

Cup  Mares  : 

hd.  Fleche 

Dresden  China 

Lady  Rosebery 

Canterbury  Pilgrim 

Laodamia 

Comedy 

Corrie  Roy 

Sceptre 

Thebais 

Handicap  Mares  and  Fillies  : 

La  Fleche 

Dornroschen 

Comedy 

Hackler's  Pride 

Corrie  Roy 

Donetta 

Plaisanterie 

Ballantrae 

'I'enebreuse 

Hammerkop 

Florence 

The  Handsomest  Horses  (Colts)  : 

Irish  Elegance 

Glanmerin 

Ard  Patrick 

Tangiers 

Persimmon 

Lemberg 

Surefoot 

Polar  Star 

Minting 

Polymelus 

Prism 

Gainsborough 

Orby's  Pride 

232  CHASING  AND   RACING 

The  Handsomest  Mares  and  Fillies  : 

Pretty  Polly  Corrie  Roy 

Dornroschen  Hammerkop 

Sceptre  Comedy 

Canterbury  Pilgrim  Laodamia 

Geheimniss  Glare 

These  lists  would  not  be  complete  without  naming 
the  ugliest  horses  or  mares  that  I  can  remember. 
*'  Handsome  is  as  handsome  does  *'  is  a  trite  enough 
saying  ;  but  the  better  looking  racers  of  either  sex  are 
generally  the  better  performers.  Those  of  "  homely  '* 
form  and  feature,  or  those  who  would  seem  more  in 
place  in  a  Christmas  pantomime,  are  but  the  exception 
which  prove  the  rule. 

Here  are  some  of  them  : 

The  Grafter  Manilado 

Dean  Swift  Hurry  On 

Epsom  Lad 

I  think  The  Grafter  must  be  awarded  pride  of  place, 
for  he  was  a  perfect  figure  of  fun  !  I  never  saw  such  a 
pronounced  Roman  nose  on  a  racehorse  ;  and  his  ears 
reminded  one  of  those  of  a  prize  lop-bunny  ! 

Dean  Swift  would  never  have  taken  the  champion- 
ship at  a  beauty  show.  To  see  him  wandering  around 
the  paddock  was  to  pity  him  for  his  loneliness  without 
the  shafts  of  a  four-wheeler  to  hold  him  up  ;  but  what 
a  splendid  fellow  he  was  on  his  favourite  courses — 
Epsom  and  Ascot  !  I  always  couple  Dean  Swift  and 
Victor  Wild  in  my  mind  as  prototypes,  for  the  latter 
was  by  no  manner  of  means  an  **  oil  painting  *'  (though 


CHASING  AND  RACING  i^Z 

not  quite  such  a  scare-crow  as  Mr.  Jack  JoeFs 
beloved  steed)  ;  but,  like  the  last-named,  he  had  his 
special  fancies  in  the  way  of  tracks,  these  being 
Kempton  (where  he  won  "  The  Jubilee  "  in  1895, 
carrying  8  stone  4  lbs.,  and  also  the  following  year, 
when  he  repeated  his  triumph,  carrying  no  less  than 
9  stone  7  lbs.)  and  Hurst  Park,  where,  in  the  Cup, 
he  was  victorious  in  1893,  and  again  in  1894  ;  on  each 
occasion  being  hunted  home,  as  previously  stated,  by 
my  Dornroschen,  who,  on  the  first  occasion,  was 
conceding  him  no  less  than  9  lbs.  ! 

Both  these  horses  picked  up  races  elsewhere,  I 
believe,  but  were  never  seen  to  such  advantage  as  was 
Dean  Swift  at  Epsom  and  Ascot,  and  Victor  Wild  at 
Kempton  and  Hurst  Park,  as  quoted.* 

Epsom  Lad  was  another  "  comic  cut  '*  who  could 
go  fast  and  stay,  and  who  was  endowed  with  any 
amount  of  grit,  as  exemplified  when  he  won  "  The 
Eclipse"  in  1901,  and  other  important  events.  At 
the  time  of  writing,  Manilado  is  still  in  training,  and 
has  done  fairly  well  on  occasions  ;  but  from  an  ocular 
point  of  view,  he  is  no  credit  to  his  illustrious  brother, 
Gay  Crusader,  and  his  near  relative,  Gainsborough, 
both  of  whom,  and  especially  the  latter,  were  *'  picture 
horses.'* 


*  Victor  Wild  also  won  the  Royal  Hunt  Cup  in  1894,  when,  as 
a  four-year-old,  he  carried  7  stone  7  lbs. ;  whilst  Dean  Swift  won 
the  Coronation  Cup  as  an  aged  horse  at  Epsom  in  1909,  with 
9  stone  3  lbs.  up. 


234  CHASING  AND   RACING    * 

Hurry  On,  one  of  the  select  group  possessing  a 
record  which  chronicles  no  defeat,  was,  in  his  racing 
days,  a  big,  rough-and-ready  customer,  possessing 
some  excellent  racing  points  and  lines  ;  but  he  had  a 
head  and  a  half^  of  the  *'  fiddle  "  formation.  When  first 
he  unveiled  himself  under  colours  he  was  whispered  as 
something  tres  chaud ;  but  a  knowledgeable  friend  of 
mine,  on  casting  an  eye  over  him,  said  with  a  shrug, 
"  Well,  if  he  can  carry  that  head  all  the  way  and 
win,  I'll  eat  him  !  "  He  did  win  all  right;  but,  of 
course,  my  friend  was  not  permitted  to  devour  him, 
even  had  he  acquired  a  sufficiency  of  appetite  to 
do  so  ! 

I  did  not  see  Durbar  II.,  the  French  colt,  who  took 
down  the  numbers  of  our  native  champions  in  the 
Derby  of  1 9 1 4  (the  year  of  dreadful  fate  !)  ;  but  I  am 
credibly  informed  that  he  was  a  perfect  eye-sore  !  He 
won  pretty  easily,  but  beat  one  of  the  poorest  fields 
in  point  of  class  that  has  ever  contested  the  great 
race. 

To  go  to  extremes,  I  must  hark  back  to  the 
Apollos  of  the  equine  world.  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  awarding  the  palm  to  Irish  Elegance,  a  truly 
marvellous  specimen  of  a  thoroughbred,  such  as 
even  the  most  carping  of  critics  would  find  it  hard  to 
"  fault." 

Next  I  should  name  Surefoot,  one  of  the  hand- 
somest of  all  time,  but  a  hooligan  of  the  deepest  dye, 
whose  bent  lay  more  towards  Venus  and  Mars  than 


CHASING  AND   RACING  235 

towards  the  wing-footed  Mercury  ;  though  when  he 
took  it  into  his  head  to  pay  attention  to  racing,  rather 
than  to  savaging  others,  he  took  a  deal  of  beating. 
That  he  could  have  won  the  Derby  of  his  year  is 
practically  certain,  had  he  not  been  seized  with  an 
overwhelming  desire  to  make  a  meal  off  an  unfortunate 
rival  who  came  within  reach  of  his  teeth,  and  in  so 
doing  seemed  to  forget  what  the  order  of  the  day  was. 
This  was  in  1890,  when  Sainfoin  won.  The  following 
year,  after  a  most  astonishing  display  of  erotic  irre- 
sponsibility in  the  paddock  at  Sandown,  Surefoot  was 
induced  to  win  The  Eclipse,  by  the  use  of  his  heels 
(laid  to  the  ground  and  not  as  was  usually  the  case, 
against  the  ribs  of  a  rival)  rather  than  his  teeth.  He 
scored  in  a  very  tight  finish,  when  the  proverbial  table- 
cloth would  have  covered  four  of  the  runners. 

Despite  Surefoot*s  constantly  recurring  and  public 
demonstrations  of  his  amorous  proclivities,  he  was  a 
comparative  failure  at  the  stud. 

As  a  third  side  of  the  beauty  triangle  I  should  name 
Ard  Patrick,  with  Minting  close  up. 

All  these  were  of  the  massive  and  imposing  type, 
yet  full  of  that  elusive  asset  termed  quality ;  so  easily 
understood  by  judges  of  horse  and  dog  flesh,  and  yet 
so  difficult  to  define  or  describe.  I  have  seen  hundreds 
of  really  charming  racers  of  both  sexes,  built  on  the 
medium  or  small  model  ;  but  it  would  require  a  very 
intense  application  of  mind  to  recall  and  "  place  "  a 
dozen  of  them  as  hyper-beautiful  specimens.   Glancing 


236  CHASING  AND   RACING 

at  the  marcs  that  I  have  seen  run,  I  have  the  hardihood 
to  opine  that  my  own  Dornroschen  was  of  peerless 
presence  (every  one  thinks  his  own  crow  the  blackest  !), 
and  t]\2it  proxime  accessit  at  a  beauty  show  I  should  place 
that  wonderful,  but  sometimes  disappointing,  flyer. 
Sceptre. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DURING  the  time  my  horses   were  being 
trained     by   Sam   Pickering   at   Kennett 
near  Newmarket,  "  Mr.  Jersey,"  whom 
I  had  counted  among  my  most  cherished 
friends,  off  and  on  for  many  years,  was  Hkewise  closely 
associated   with    the   stable  ;   though   eventually  she 
placed  her  string  under  the  care  of  Fred  Webb. 

**  Mr.  Jersey,**  or  to  call  her  by  her  real  name, 
Mrs.  Langtry,*  at  that  time  resided  at  "  Regal  Lodge," 
hard  by  Pickering's  stables.  I  was  a  frequent  visitor, 
and  shall  always  remember  with  profound  appreciation 
the  kindness  and  hospitality  which  I  enjoyed  at  the 
hands  of  "  The  Missus  "  (as  we  used  to  call  her)  and 
her  charming  daughter,  Jeanne  (afterwards  Lady  Ian 
Malcolm),  who  at  that  time  was  in  her  **  teens."  The 
latter  was  very  sympathetic  with  me  regarding  our 
mutual  love  of  horses  and  dogs,  especially  the  latter, 
and  also  because  music  appealed  to  us  both  insistently  ; 
but  whereas  I  was,  and  am,  naught  but  a  melodist, 
without  much  technical  knowledge  or  skill,  Jeanne 
was    a     trained     and     facile     musician.      I     would 

*  Mrs.  Langtry  eventually  became  Lady  de  Bathe. 

237 


238  CHASING  AND   RACING 

play  my  airs  on  a  silver  whistle  of  the  **  penny  *' 
variety,  and  she  would  take  them  down  in  music 
notation,  almost  as  fast  as  a  skilled  stenographer  can 
transcribe  from  dictation. 

Her  beautiful  mother  and  I  had  much  in  common, 
and  were  never  tired  of  discussing,  not  only  the 
absorbing  matters  of  the  turf  in  which  we  were  both  so 
intensely  interested,  but  those  of  the  drama,  art, 
social  and  other  amenities  which  appealed  to  us  almost 
as  much.  When  a  meeting  at  Newmarket  was  toward, 
open  house  was  kept  at  Regal  Lodge,  and  lavish 
hospitality  dispensed  to  those  sitting  in  high  places, 
who  were  also  enthusiasts  in  the  game. 

An  outstanding  personality  of  the  turf,  with  whom 
I  came  in  contact  at  my  hostess*  residence,  was  Capt. 
Machell,  at  that  time  manager  to  the  racing  establish- 
ment of  the  then  Lord  Calthorpe.  I  had  many  a  chat 
with  him  and  gleaned  much  useful  information  in 
racing  matters  ;  for  the  Captain  was  an  unerring  judge 
and  a  keen  observer.  There  came  a  time  when  Regal 
Lodge  and  its  entourage  had  experienced  a  somewhat 
disastrous  week,  and  it  behoved  us  to  find  a  safe  "  get 
out.'*  Capt.  Machell,  taking  compassion  on  our 
forlorn  position,  put  up  a  "  cinch  "  for  us  at  Gatwick 
— a  two-year-old  called  Blackthorn  (I  think  that  was  its 
name),  which  he  declared  could  not  possibly  be  beaten, 
unless  he  fell  down  ;  and  even  then  might  be  capable 
of  regaining  an  upright  position  and  sufficient  equi- 
librium to  enable  him  to  slam  any  opposition  that  might 


CHASING  AND  RACING  239 

be  offered.  We  all  went  to  the  meeting  to  interview 
this  prodigy,  and  were  introduced  to  a  singularly 
handsome  black  colt,  whose  bearing  and  manners, 
plus  the  whole-hearted  recommendation  of  our  astute 
friend,  emboldened  us  to  freely  lay  odds  of  i  i-io  on 
in  a  small  field.  If  I  remember  rightly,  my  one-time 
-protege^  Walter  Bradford,  had  the  mount,  and  he 
"  doddled  it,''  winning  in  a  canter  by  a  couple  of 
lengths.  Here,  thought  I,  is  a  smasher,  and  one  to 
follow  religiously.  So  the  next  time  Blackthorn  ran 
I  had  a  packet  on  him  ;  but,  to  my  surprise  and  pain, 
he  was  numbered  with  the  "  also  ran,''  and,  as  far  as  I 
can  remember,  never  greatly  distinguished  himself 
thereafter. 

Now  the  question  arises,  how  on  earth  did  Capt. 
Machell  gauge  the  colts'  chances  in  the  Gatwick  race 
with  such  accuracy  that  he  was  able  to  reduce  the 
issue  to  a  gilt-edged  certainty,  having  regard  to  the 
fact  that  the  winning  card  was  not  an  "  honour  "  ? 
Or  was  Blackthorn  really  a  top-sawyer  when  he  ran  at 
Gatwick,  and  did  he  subsequently  lose  his  form  through 
some  untoward  circumstance  }  I  am  left  guessing  ! 
Anyway,  we  all  got  home  on  him  (Glory  be  !),  and 
departed  rejoicing  and  pouring  blessings  on  the  gallant 
Captain's  level  head. 

Sometimes  a  very  Great  Personage  would  honour 
Regal  Lodge  with  his  company  at  luncheon  or  dinner. 
On  the  latter  occasions  he  preferred  a  homely  little 
gathering  consisting  of  our  hostess,  her  daughter,  a 


240  CHASING  AND   RACING 

dear  friend  of  mine,  and  myself.  A  pleasant  evening 
was  always  to  be  looked  for.  Some  kind  friend  had 
presented  the  V.G.P.  with  what  was  alleged  to  be  a 
French  bull-dog,  but  which  fell  far  short  of  the  ideal 
in  the  matter  of  points. 

Said  my  hostess  to  me,  **  His  Nibs  is  going  to  bring 
his  dog  over  to  show  you  and  obtain  your  expert 
opinion.  I  don't  think  it  is  much  of  a  one,  but  for 
goodness  sake  don't  say  so  !  '* 

All  the  same  I  was  determined  to  speak  out  and 
say  just  what  I  thought  of  the  dog,  whose  name  was 
Peter.  So  when  the  V.G.P. ,  with  a  look  of  pride  on  his 
popular  features,  showed  me  his  pet,  I  told  him  exactly 
what  the  dog's  failings  were,  and  what  its  good  points 
(which  were  precious  few)  ;  whilst  behind  its  master's 
back  my  anxious  hostess  was  glowering  at  me  and 
contorting  her  classic  features  with  forbidding  frowns. 
But  she  need  not  have  been  alarmed,  for  the  owner 
accepted  my  criticisms  quite  meekly,  if  sadly,  and  anon 
walked  me  out  to  the  paddocks  to  inspect  the  stud  and 
to  pass  my  opinion  on  its  units. 

When  we  returned  to  five  o'clock  tea  several 
notable  Turfites  were  assembled,  and  the  cup  that 
cheers  and  often,  I  believe,  does  inebriate  (in  certain 
feminine  instances),  was  being  handed  round,  and  we 
fell  to  discussing  future  events.  I  remember  having  a 
wager  with  the  V.G.P.  that  Newhaven  II.  would  beat 
a  certain  nominee  of  his  in  the  Ascot  Cup,  "  both  to 
run  and  one  to  win,"  when  I  became  aware  that  Peter 


CHASING  AND  RACING  241 

was  making  a  devastating  raid  on  the  pedestal  which 
displayed  cakes,  petits  fours^  and  other  confections. 
He  was  just  within  the  range  of  my  foot,  so  I  adminis- 
tered a  gentle  correction.  The  kick  was  by  no  means 
a  hefty  one,  but  the  revengeful  Peter  set  up  a  loud 
lamentation,  which  immediately  arrested  the  attention 
of  his  Royal  Master,  who  exclaimed — 

"  Why,  what*s  the  matter  with  Peter  ?  Has  any 
one  hurt  you,  Peter  ?  " 

I  took  the  bull  by  the  horns  !  "He  was  raiding 
the  cakes,  sir  !  "  I  said,  *'  so  I  pushed  him  with  my 
foot.    He  is  not  hurt,  only  startled." 

**  Now  that  was  very  naughty  of  Peter  ;  but 
you  must  not  kick  him,**  replied  the  V.G.P.  rather 
severely. 

When  the  company  broke  up  my  hostess  addressed 
me,  "  You've  done  it  now,  Harding  (she  was  one  of 
the  few  who  refused  to  address  me  by  my  pseudonym — 
*  Cockie  ').  You'll  be  outside  in  a  pot  hat  now  !  " 
But  she  was  wrong.  I  was  still  in  quite  good  odour 
with  royalty. 

Sometime  later — at  the  Newmarket  First  Spring 
Meeting  of  1898,  I  think— H.R.H.  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  as  he  then  was,  joined  our  group  on  the  lawn, 
with  the  pleasing  information  that  he  had  "  a  real 
good  thing  "  for  us,  emanating  from  Dick  Marsh's 
stable,  and  owned  by  Mr.  J.  W.  Larnach — one  Jeddah 
to  wit.  "  He  is  sure  to  win  this  Triennial  to-day," 
declared  H.R.H.,  "  and  then  he  will  be  favourite  for 

R 


242  CHASING  AND   RACING 

the  Derby.  Now  the  thing  to  do  is  to  back  him  for  the 
Derby  before  he  runs."  Then  turning  to  me,  "  What 
can  you  get  }  *' 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  but  Til  see,"  and  off  I  went  to 
the  ring,  soon  returning  with  the  information  that 
IOO-8  could  be  booked  for  the  great  race  ;  whereupon 
the  Prince  said  he  would  have  ;^i,ooo-;/^8o.  Mrs. 
Langtry  declared  for  a  like  wager,  and  I  determined 
to  take  the  odds  for  myself.  One  of  these  ventures 
were  entrusted  to  Geo.  Cooper  (the  best  of  bookies,  and 
one  of  nature's  gentlemen),  and  the  Daily  Mail  hatted 
Rob  Lee,  respectively  ;  but  I  forget  who  the  third 
victim  was.  Reuben  Sassoon  booked  the  bet  for 
H.R.H.  Came  that  day's  race,  and  Jeddah  well  down 
the  course  1  We  looked  unthinkable  things  at  the 
Heir  Apparent,  but  he  only  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
**  I  cannot  understand  it,"  he  said ;  **  they  told  me 
Jeddah  was  sure  to  win  I  " 

**  Does  not  look  much  as  if  he  would  win  the  Derby, 
sir,"  I  ventured. 

**  No,  I  suppose  not  I  "  and  H.R.H.  strolled  away, 
followed  by  the  faithful  Reuben.  When  "off"  had 
been  signalled  in  the  great  race  of  1898  I  was  in 
Mrs.  Langtry's  box.  I  forget  what  we  had  backed, 
but  it  was  "  not  on  the  map  "  as  the  field  swept  round 
Tattenham  and  were  pounding  down  the  straight. 
**  We're  beat,"  murmured  my  hostess.  "  What's 
winning  ?  How  about  Batt  }  "  (the  Duke  of  West- 
minster's representative). 


CHASING  AND  RACING  243 

"  Going  well ;  but  there's  one  going  better.  Here  ! 
what  price  Jeddah  ?     Jeddah  wins  ! — ^Jeddah  !  " 

"  That's  a  crusher,"  mourned  Mrs.  Langtry.  "  A 
skinner  for  the  ring.  Every  bet  I  had  has  gone 
down  !  " 

*'  Not  every  one^  Missus.  Have  you  forgotten  that 
you  have  ;^iooo-;^8o — Jeddah,  for  this  race  }  And  so 
has  the  Prince,  and  so  have  I.     Glory  be  !  " 

My  fair  friend  jumped  up,  "  Good  heavens,  you're 
right,  Harding.  What  luck  !  Why  I  had  forgotten 
all  about  it  !  Run  and  tell  His  Nibs,  he'll  be 
delighted  1  " 

I  found  H.R.H.  in  the  Club.  Before  I  could  say 
a  word  he  exclaimed  : 

**  What  do  you  think  of  that  }  Here's  a  horse  in 
our  stable  wins  the  Derby  at  loo-i,  and  I  have  not 
backed  it  for  a  shilHng  !  " 

**  Pardon  me,  sir,"  I  corrected,  "  but  you  have  a 
bet  about  Jeddah  !  " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  }  " 

"  Don't  you  remember,  sir  '^,  I  took  {^\ooo-fJiO 
for  you  before  Jeddah  ran  in  the  Triennial  I  " 

"  Why  bless  my  soul,  so  you  did;  that's  capital, 
capital.  Go  and  tell  Reuben  !  I  hope  you  won  a 
bit .?  " 

I  told  H.R.H.  I  had,  and  that  all  was  well. 

So  ended  the  Jeddah  sensation.  At  Ascot  the 
horse  proved  that  his  Derby  victory  was  no  fluke.  The 
fact  of  the  matter  is  that  his  inglorious  display  at 


244  CHASING  AND  RACING 

Newmarket  was  accountable  for  by  the  state  of  the 
"  going  "  on  that  occasion  ;  for  it  was  adamantine, 
and  one  could  hardly  see  the  field  for  dust  as  they 
ran. 

"  Mr.  Jersey  "  was  an  enthusiast  in  racing  as 
she  was  in  other  matters.  Whatever  her  fair  hand 
found  to  do  she  did  it  with  all  her  might,  and  did  it 
well.  She  had  an  idea,  and  a  very  well-founded  one  to 
boot,  that  our  native  racing  stock  was,  taken  as  a  whole, 
deficient  in  that  all  important  quality — stamina  ;  that 
in  this  respect  it  was,  in  fact,  degenerate.  She  had 
marked  the  constant  and  remarkable  success  of  the 
Musket  blood  in  the  Antipodes,  and  determined  to 
import  some  of  it,  with  a  view  to  an  improvement  in 
our  native  productions.  Her  first  venture  was  a 
highly  successful  one  ;  for  when  Merman  had  become 
acclimatized  he  became  a  power  in  the  land,  for,  after 
winning  the  Caesarewitch  of  1897  (for  which  he  was 
boldly  backed  by  his  owner  and  her  friends,  including 
the  writer),  he  put  a  seal  on  his  fame  by  carrying  off 
the  Ascot  Gold  Cup  two  years  later.  In  the  mean- 
time he  had  been  rather  unluckily  beaten  in  the 
Chester  Cup  of  1898,  which  was  won  by  a  lightly- 
burdened  outsider  named  Up  Guards  ;  the  peculiari- 
ties of  the  cramped  Chester  Course  and  the  short  run 
in  being  unfavourable  to  such  a  far-striding  horse  as 
the  "Aussie." 

Though  not  what  might  be  considered  a  **  picture 
horse,"  Merman  was  the  possessor  of  some  outstanding 


CHASING  AND   RACING  245 

points  of  merit.  I  never  saw  such  a  deep  and  well- 
ribbed  chest,  nor  such  long  sweeping  shoulders.  His 
quarters,  if  somewhat  ragged,  were  immensely  power- 
ful; in  fact  the  whole  figure  of  the  horse  suggested 
great  strength  and  staying  power. 

But  **  Mr.  Jersey  "  was  not  so  fortunate  the  next 
time  of  asking,  when  she  imported  Aurum,  a  colt  of 
the  right  strain,  whose  performances  "  over  yonder  ** 
had  been  most  impressive.  When  he  reached  this 
country  it  was  found  impossible  to  train  him  properly  ; 
moreover,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  he  never 
became  a  success  at  the  Stud. 

A  notable  mare  which  was  left  to  Mrs.  Langtry 
by  the  testamentary  disposition  of  George  Baird 
("  Mr.  Abingdon  *')  was  Lady  Rosebery,  who  con- 
tracted the  pleasant  habit  of  winning  Liverpool  Cups, 
and  rounded  off  with  the  Jockey  Club  Cup  in  1893  ; 
her  example  being  emulated  by  Merman  five  years 

later. 

**  Mr.  Jersey  *'  was  devoted  to  her  horses,  and  no 
matter  how  badly  they  cut  up  or  how  completely  they 
let  her  down,  had  always  an  excuse  for  them.  My 
critical  faculty  sometimes  urged  me  to  make  remarks 
which  were  extremely  distasteful  to  my  friend. 

On  one  occasion,  after  inspecting  her  string,  good, 
bad,  and  indifferent,  I  came  out  with,  *'  I  say.  Missus,  I 
wish  you  would  ask  me  down  for  a  few  days'  shooting! " 

**  But,  my  dear  Harding,  you  know  I  have  no 
shooting  to  offer.'* 


246  CHASING  AND   RACING 

**  Oh  yes,  you  have ;  I  could  enjoy  grand  sport 
potting  some  of  your  useless  and  expensive  equine 
rocketers  !  " 

Well,  I  was  fairly  "  for  it,'*  and  a  lifelong  and 
cherished  camaraderie  was  nigh  coming  to  a  sudden 
and  violent  end;  but  happily  an  abject  apology  brought 
about  a  peaceful  issue.  There  was,  however,  one  colt 
which  sorely  tried  its  owner's  patience.  At  last  a  day 
came  when  it  so  behaved  as  to  call  forth  an  order  which 
in  promulgation  provided  a  particularly  neat  hon  mot. 

This  colt's  name  was  Amberite.  He  was  one  of 
those  that  could  if  he  would,  but  he  almost  invariably 
wouldnt  I  He  was  running  at  Kempton,  whither 
Mrs,  Langtry  had  been  unable  to  go  on  that  par- 
ticular day.  She,  however,  received  a  wire  at  Regal 
Lodge  from  Fred  Webb  (who  at  that  time  had  charge 
of  her  horses)  to  the  following  effect  :  "  Amberite 
beaten,  would  not  try  a  yard."  The  owner's  reply 
was — 

**  Amberite  is  no  gentleman  !  Make  him  so  I  ^* 
— ^Jersey. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DURING  the  time  I  disported  myself  on 
the  Turf  as  an  amateur  rider,  I  was  natu- 
rally brought  into  contact,  at  one  time 
or  another,  with  all  the  riding  knuts — 
members  of  Bibury,  Southdown,  Sandown,  Kempton, 
Newmarket,  and  other  important  clubs  ;  and  a  nice 
cheery  set  of  boys  they  were,  who  played  the  game  of 
give  and  take  to  perfection. 

Those  who  were  genuine  contemporaries  were 
linked  up  with  a  senior  bunch,  units  of  which  took 
occasional  mounts  when  conditions  and  circumstances 
were  favourable.  Among  the  latter  Arthur  Coventry 
was  conspicuous.  In  his  day,  he  had  been  looked  upon 
2iS  facile  princeps^  and  he  never  lost  the  art  of  race-riding. 
When  he  became  official  starter  to  the  Jockey  Club  it 
was  not  often  that  he  donned  silk  ;  but  when  the 
Bibury  Club  Meeting  (then  held  at  Stockbridge)  came 
round,  he  was  generally  to  be  seen  on  the  back  of  some 
gee,  owned  and  trained  by  his  friend,  the  local  celebrity, 
Tom  Cannon,  senior.  On  these  occasions  I  fre- 
quently found  myself  in  opposition.  I  tried  to  tackle 
him  on  one  of  the  great  ex-jockey's  string,  with  my 

non-staying  and  delightful,  but  elephantine  Blankney. 

247 


248  CHASING  AND   RACING 

The  race  was  a  mile,  but  my  joker  had  no  pretensions 
to  stay  the  distance  ;  he  nevertheless  held  on  for  seven 
furlongs  before  giving  Arthur's  mount  best,  and  was 
well  in  front  of  the  rest  of  the  field  at  the  finish. 

A  day  later  I  slammed  the  same  rider  (when  vainly 
endeavouring  to  induce  Tom's  champion  Blanc  to 
show  a  shadow  of  the  form  he  had  displayed  in  a  home 
trial)  with  my  Dornroschen,  as  described  elsewhere  ; 
and  on  the  last  day's  racing  I  had  my  revenge  on  the 
Cannon  contingent  in  a  six-furlong  race,  which  was 
eminently  to  Blankney's  liking.  Incidentally  I  may 
mention  that  this  was  a  selling  race,  and  I  was  fearful 
that  I  should  have  to  soar  into  high  finance,  in  order 
to  retain  the  dear  old  chap  ;  but  as  luck  would  have  it, 
he  had  twisted  a  plate  in  pulling  up,  with  the  result 
that  he  limped  around  the  sale  ring  like  a  lame  duck, 
so  no  one  would  bid. 

I  have  already  described  the  tight  finish  between 
Arthur  Coventry,  Geo.  Baird  (Abingdon),  and  myself 
at  Derby.  I  was  indeed  fortunate  to  be  on  the  better 
gee  three  times  out  of  the  four  that  I  encountered  the 
first  named. 

If  I  was  lucky  as  regards  the  two  named,  and  Sir 
James  Duke,  there  were  others  who  were  veritable 
hoodoos  to  me.  Not  once  did  I  succeed  in  pegging 
back  Tommy  Lushington  ;  though  on  one  occasion  I 
got  to  the  head  of  his  mount  on  the  post,  when  riding 
the  worst  rogue  that  it  was  ever  my  ill-fortune  to 
bestride.     This   was  Roscidus,  alluded   to  earlier  in 


CHASING  AND   RACING  249 

these  ramblings.  Tommy  was  built  on  the  same 
lines  as  myself,  that  is  to  say,  decidedly  "  stocky/*  with 
short  legs,  but  lots  of  power  in  back,  loins,  shoulders, 
and  arms.  He  had  the  best  of  hands,  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  pace,  and  fine  judgment  all  round.  In 
fact,  I  rank  him  as  one  of  the  most  efficient  amateurs 
I  ever  came  across. 

Another  that  was  constantly  taking  my  number 
down  was  W.  H.  ("  Bill  '')  Moore,  a  brother  of  the 
delightful  "  Garry  ''  of  that  ilk,  who  was  himself  a 
perfect  performer  over  the  sticks  and  between  flags. 
Bill  was  the  antithesis  of  Tommy  Lushington — a  long, 
limber  chap  and  immensely  strong.  One  wondered 
how  on  earth  he  managed  to  go  to  scales  at  the  weights 
he  carried.  He  looked  as  if  he  walked  twelve  stone  ! 
And  yet  he  could  ride  (all  in)  eleven  stone  or  there- 
abouts. He  was  the  most  powerful  finisher  of  our 
bunch  ;    but  a  cruel  one. 

Of  George  Baird  I  have  already  said  sufficient  to 
show  what  an  accomplished  horseman  he  was  at  his 
best  ;  but  admittedly  his  living  was  not  what  one 
might  term  ascetic  or  even  prudent.  Towards  the 
end  of  his  riding  days  his  nerves  were  anything  but 
strung  to  concert  pitch. 

Two  soldiers,  who  had  been  schoolfellows  of 
mine  at  Harrow,  were  notable  performers.  I  allude 
to  Major  *'  Bobbie "  Fisher  and  Capt.  (afterwards 
Colonel)  Childe.  The  latter  was  known  at  the  School- 
on-the-Hill    as    Childe-Pemberton,    but    latterly    he 


250  CHASING  AND  RACING 

dropped  the  affix.  He  was  killed  in  the  Boer  War 
in  one  of  the  early  battles  (Grasspan,  I  believe).  A 
simple  stone  was  erected  where  he  fell  and  was  buried, 
inscribed  :  "  Is  it  well  with  the  child  ?  It  is  well  !  ** 
If  I  have  not  the  line  verbatim,  pray  excuse  me.  The 
sentiment  is  expressed  correctly. 

Of  Roddy  Owen  I  have  written  copiously.  Those 
who  knew  and  appreciated  him  will  ever  bear  him  in 
affectionate  remembrance  and  deplore  the  horrid 
calamity  which  put  a  premature  end  to  his  joyous, 
devil-may-care  life. 

Lord  Rocksavage  (afterwards  Marquis  of  Choi- 
mondeley),  better  known  as  "  Rock,"  was  a  very 
capable  horseman  and  an  excellent  judge  of  racing. 
He,  like  Bill  Moore,  was  very  deceptive  where  weight 
is  concerned,  for  he  was  not  nearly  so  heavy  as  he 
looked.  He  was  a  man  of  taciturn  disposition,  who, 
like  the  sailor's  parrot,  thought  much  and  said  little. 
He  always  gave  me  the  idea  that  he  wanted  to  snub 
me  or  to  ignore  my  existence  ;  but  when  it  came 
to  correspondence,  he  was  most  courteous  and  in- 
formative. 

The  Earl  of  Derby  rode  occasionally  and  with  some 
success.  I  think  I  have  told  how  my  dear  old  Weasel 
passed  into  his  hands,  but  I  am  not  sure  if  he  won  a 
race  with  him  or  not.  **  Chris  **  Waller,  Teddy 
Wilson,  George  Lambton,  Wengy  Hope  Johnstone, 
Ronnie  Greville,  Percy  Bewicke  (quite  Ai),  Charlie 
Cunningham,  Dan  Thirlwell,  *'  Mr.  Charles  "  (Lord 


CHASING  AND  RACING  251 

Molyneux  *),  were  others  of  my  time  who  made  good  ; 
whilst  such  as  Ronnie  Moncrieff,  Guy  Fenwick,  Alec 
Popham,  and  Major  Morris  occasionally  popped  up. 
But  I  must  not  forget  Major  Frank  Atkinson,  a  stand- 
ing dish  at  Lewes  and  successful  elsewhere,  a  very  live 
proposition  indeed,  and  one  who  could  hold  his  own 
with  the  best. 

George  Thursby  began  to  blossom  out  just  as  I  was 
fading  away  from  the  Turf;  but  we  overlapped  a  bit, 
as  already  described.  All  things  considered,  and  when 
his  powers  as  a  horseman  were  fully  developed,  I  have 
no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  him  the  best  amateur 
rider  that  ever  came  under  my  observation.  There 
were  few,  if  any,  professionals  that  "  had  anything  on 
him,'*  as  the  American  slang  has  it  ! 

A  good  many  of  those  whom  I  have  named  held, 
like  myself,  the  advantage  of  a  license  from  the  Jockey 
Club  to  ride  on  equal  terms  with  jockeys,  so  that 
occasionally  we  met  in  a  "  mixed  *'  field,  with  the  con- 
sequence that  we  amateurs  had  an  insight  to  pro- 
fessional characters  and  methods  which  were  hidden 
from  the  public.  For  my  own  part  I  can  bear  witness 
to  the  fact  that  the  rumours  and  scandals  which 
overshadowed  "  the  little  men  '*  were  for  the  most 
part  entirely  without    foundation,    or    preposterously 

*  Lord  Molyneux  was  a  capable  and  cheery  amateur  who 
came  to  a  sad  end.  After  sustaining  a  terrible  crumpler  at 
Sandown,  his  spine  was  so  affected  that  he  was  two  years  on 
his  back  before  death  ended  iiis  sufferings. 


252  CHASING  AND  RACING 

exaggerated.  But,  of  course,  there  were  black  sheep 
in  the  fold,  and  no  doubt  some  very  clever  and  daring 
ramps  were  occasionally  engineered.  Taking  them 
all  in  all,  I  found  the  professional  jockeys  a  respectful 
and  respectable  lot,  though  there  were  one  or  two 
whose  heads  appeared  to  have  swelled  to  such  an  extent 
that  they  had  to  take  the  largest  sizes  in  racing  caps. 
These  exceptions  were  apt  to  be  dour  or  cynical.  No 
doubt  the  instructions  which  were  hammered  into  them 
to  keep  their  mouths  shut  and  their  ears  open,  may 
have  accounted  for  their  mauvaise  honte,  and  their 
churlish  manners. 

Personally,  I  appear  to  have  enjoyed  a  full  measure 
of  popularity  among  owners,  trainers,  and  jockeys  ; 
consequently  I  was  favoured  with  a  plethora  of"  tips,** 
which  often  left  me  in  a  dilemma  as  to  what  horse  I 
should  support  in  a  particular  race. 

For  instance,  I  invested  on  five  horses  in  the 
Cambridgeshire  of  1893.  At  the  last  moment  Bob 
Sherwood  told  me  that  I  must  not  leave  Molly 
Morgan  out  of  my  calculations  ;  but  she  had  let  me 
down  in  the  Caesarewitch,  and  I  would  have  none  of 
her.  My  "  bunch  of  five,"  headed  by  Raeburn, 
followed  *'  Molly  **  home  without  any  interloper 
intervening  ! 

One  day  I  met  Humphries  (who  was  then  training 
for  the  Thursbys)  in  Piccadilly.  The  genial  one 
invited  me  to  his  Club  (the  newly-formed  and  palatial 
"  Junior  Constitutional  *'),  and  there  he  confided  to 


CHASING  AND  RACING  253 

me  that  he  was  sending  a  string  of  five  to 
Newton,  and  expected  to  win  a  race  with  each  one 
of  them. 

"  I  believe  you  are  fond  of  dabbling  in  accumu- 
lators,'* he  said.  **  Here's  your  chance,  Captain,  to 
pack  up  a  parcel." 

I  took  his  advice,  and  coupled  up  his  lot  in  doubles 
and  trebles  in  all  sorts  of  combinations. 

It  was  the  time  of  the  'Varsity  Cricket  Match,  a 
contest  which  I  never  miss  if  I  can  help  it.  At  my 
best  I  was  only  a  third  rater  with  leather  or  willow  ; 
but  I  love  the  game,  and  consider  myself  a  fair  critic 
thereof. 

Well,  I  kept  buying  evening  papers  as  each  issue 
was  published  and  distributed.  Sure  enough  Honest 
John's  little  lot  "  clicked  "  monotonously,  with  only 
one  exception.  What  was  due  to  me  was  quite  beyond 
mental  calculation.  I  was,  naturally  enough,  elated 
at  first,  and  so  was  a  dearly  beloved  friend  who  was 
with  me. 

"  Cockie,  dear,  this  is  splendid  !  "  she  enthused. 

A  dead  weight  fell  on  my  exuberance. 

**  Yes,  sweetheart,  a  great  deal  too  good^  I'm  afraid," 
I  answered  gloomily.  And  I  was  right  !  My  pre- 
sentiment proved  miserably  well  founded,  for  my  S.P. 
merchant  **  did  a  guy  "  and  "  beat  it,"  as  the  Yanks 
say,  and  I  was  left  lamenting  !  I  had  won  over  ;^3000 
(and  no  single  bet  over  ;^5),  and  all  I  could  lay  hands 
on  was  a  bare  deal  table  and  a  rickety  chair,  left  in  the 


254  CHASING  AND   RACING 

once    sumptuous    office    of   the    absconding    "  com- 
mission agent.'* 

A  propos  accumulators,  it  happened  that  I  was 
witness  of  a  rather  extraordinary  gamble  which  took 
place  on  the  International  Gun  and  Polo  Club  shooting 
ground  at  Hendon.  A  young  "  sport/*  whom  I  will 
call  **  A./*  asked  a  rather  green  but  self-assertive 
competitor,  "  B.,**  if  he  would  accept  "  a  fiver  '*  and 
let  him.  A.,  have  a  penny  accumulator  S.P.  on  all  the 
winners  at  Epsom  (the  Spring  Meeting  had  just  com- 
menced).    B.  "  fell  for  it  **  readily  enough. 

It  so  happened  that  all  the  winners  that  day  were  at 
a  fairly  short  price,  and  when  we  met  next  morning 
on  the  pigeon  ground  B.  found  himself  over  £'^  in 
pocket;  but  A.,  quite  undaunted,  said,  "  YouVe  bested 
me  this  time,  B.;  but  look  here  !  I'll  give  you  *a 
tenner  '  to  have  a  penny  accumulator  on  all  the  winners 
at  Epsom  to-day T  B.  rose  like  a  famished  trout. 
When  we  had  assembled  for  the  final  day's  shoot, 
(incidentally  I  may  be  allowed  to  brag  that  I  won  the 
Cup),  B.  strolled  up  to  A.  "  Hulloa,  A.,"  he  said, 
"  how  does  your  penny  accumulator  work  out  to-day, 
old  sport  ?  I  had  not  time  to  look  at  the  returns  ?  " 
"  Oh  !  "  said  A.,  calmly,  removing  his  cigar  from  his 
lips  and  knocking  the  ash  off  on  the  stock  of  his  gun, 
"  I  make  out  you  owe  me  ;/^4323  2j.  3^.  /  "  (these  were 
not  the  exact  figures,  but  they  are  approximate,  and 
serve  to  accentuate  the  astounding  result).  Of  course 
B.  was  flabbergasted.     For  the  moment  he  tried  to 


CHASING  AND   RACING  255 

bluff  and  to  laugh  off  his  predicament  as  a  kind  of  joke  ; 
but  a  bet  is  a  bet,  and  he  had  taken  his  chance.  It 
seems  that  hardly  a  favourite  had  won  on  **  the  Downs," 
and  most  of  the  winners  were  of  the  "  100-8  "  or 
"  20-1  others  *'  category.  I  believe  that  the  wager 
was  in  the  end  settled  for  a  matter  of  "  a  monkey." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

WHO  that  goes  down  to  the  racecourses  in 
trains,  buses,  motor  cars,  traps,  or  on 
Shank's  mare,  has  not  heard  of  wonder- 
ful dreams  of  winners — and  losers  ? 
Some  of  these  hallucinations  are  really  remarkable.* 
It  fell  to  the  writer's  lot  to  experience  a  most 
astounding  somnolent  forecast  ;  one  which  turned 
out  highly  profitable  moreover. 

It  was  in  1892,  and  the  eve  of  the  Jubilee.  I  had 
been  carefully  studying  the  handicap,  and  had  reduced 
the  number  of  those  horses  which,  to  my  way  of 
thinking,  were  "  possibles  "  to  half  a  dozen,  but  could 
not  make  up  my  mind  as  to  which  of  these  held  the 
winning  card.  I  went  to  bed  in  the  nuptial  chamber 
and  dreamed  a  dream. 

I  was,  methought,  in  the  members'  enclosure  with 

Ted  Jaquet,  who  has  figured  so  largely  (metaphorically 

and  physically)  in  these  pages.     The  field  cantered  to 

the  post,  and  I  essayed  to  take  up  a  point  of  vantage 

to  view  the  contest,  but  found  myself  so  crowded  in 

that  I  could  not  move.     Ted  was  more  lucky,  and  I 

could  see  his  expansive  and  genial  dial  beaming  above 

256 


CHASING  AND   RACING  257 

the  heads  of  packed  humanity.  When  "  off "  was 
signalled  on  the  brazen  bugle  I  shouted  to  my  cousin  : 

"  D it,  Ted,  I'm  fixed  here  ;  what's  happening  ? 

What  shall  I  back  ? "  His  reply  came  clear  and 
concise,  *'  Back  Euclid;  he  got  off  well  and  is  nicely 
placed  on  the  rails  !  " 

"  Take  you  twenty-two  ponies  Euclid,"  I  yelled 
to  Fry,  who  was  within  earshot. 

"  Lay  you  twenties,  Capting,"  came  the  leviathan's 
reply. 

**  Not  good  enough  1  " 

Then  from  Ted — 

"  Take  twenties,  Cockie,  take  any  -price,  Euclid  is 
going  better'n  anything.     He'll  win  !  " 

"  Take  you  twenties  to  a  pony,  Fry  !  " 

"  Too  late,  too  late,  Capting  !  they're  near  home 
now.    Lay  you  eights  !  " 

The  yelling  and  shouting  began,  and  presently 
the  field  flashed  by.  I  could  see  nothing  but  the  caps 
of  the  riders.  Then  there  was  a  sudden  hush  as  the 
numbers  were  hoisted. 

"  What's  won  ?  "  I  asked  a  guy  who  was  squeezed 
against  me. 

**  Look  at  the  number  board,  guv'nor  1  "  was  the 
non-committal  reply. 

I  could  see  the  erection  all  right,  and  hoisted  in  the 

winning  slot  a  big  and  conspicuous  "  9." 

What's  9  ?  "  I  asked. 

Look  at  your  card !  " 

s 


<( 


<( 


258  CHASING  AND  RACING 

"  But  I  haven't  got  a  card  !  "     Then  I  awoke  ! 

The  whole  dream  was  of  the  greatest  clarity,  and 
the  incidents  positively  meticulous.  There  were  none 
of  those  absurd  complications  and  transformations 
which,  as  a  rule,  render  dreams  as  the  hallucinations  of 
a  lunatic,  or  the  observations  of  a  victim  of  D.T.  I 
was  fully  awake.  I  got  out  of  bed  and  scribbled  on  a 
slip  of  paper,  "  Euclid,  No.  9.''  I  looked  at  my  watch, 
it  was  2.2s  a-ni-  The  race  was  due  to  be  run  at 
3.30  p.m.  Then  I  returned  to  bed  and  fell  into  a 
dreamless  slumber. 

Next  day  on  arriving  at  Waterloo  station  en  route 
for  Kempton,  in  feverish  haste  I  bought  and  scanned 
the  card.     Euclid  WAS  No.  9  / 

I  entered  the  train,  and  the  first  person  to  greet  me 
was  **  Nigger  '*  Duncan,  Euclid's  owner.  I  told  him 
my  dream.  "  Well,  I  fancy  the  little  horse,*'  he  con- 
fided, "  and  have  backed  him  ;  but  on  the  strength 
of  your  dream,  old  Cockie,  I  shall  have  another 
hundred  on." 

As  all  the  world  knows,  Euclid  won  ;  but  I  was 
not  hemmed  in  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  had  an  excellent 
view  of  the  race,  and  incidentally  enriched  my  banking 
account  very  considerably. 

I  must  confess  that  from  the  time  the  weights 
were  declared  I  had  a  strong  fancy  for  the  horse, 
and  his  name  was  among  the  half-dozen  that  I  had 
ticked  off  as  likely  propositions.  Now  comes  the 
sequel. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  259 

All  my  pals  at  The  Raleigh  Club  knew  of  my  dream 
and  its  issue,  so  when  the  eve  of  the  companion  race 
to  the  Jubilee,  The  Duke  of  York's,  came  round,  I  was 
besieged  by  ribald  fellows,  who  urged  me  to  go  home, 
dream  the  winner,  and  give  them  "  the  office."  Well, 
I  did  have  a  dream,  but  it  was  not  of  Kempton  or  any 
other  racecourse. 

I  thought  I  was  back  at  The  Raleigh  and  telling 
my  cronies  that  I  had  tried  to  dream  and  had  failed. 
**  Bad  luck,  Cockie,"  said  Nat  Hone,  the  amateur  S.P. 
merchant  ;  *'  but  never  mind,  do  as  you  did  before  !  '' 
Again  I  woke  up,  the  hands  of  my  watch  were  at 
3.30  a.m. 

Now  the  answer  of  the  oracle  was  cryptic,  Euclid 
was  in  the  race,  but  with  a  weight  at  which  I  did  not 
fancy  him  in  the  least.  It  must  be  No,  9  on  the  card^ 
I  decided.  When  that  publication  was  investigated, 
there  was  what  I  imagined  to  be  a  further  set  back. 
No,  9  was  Miss  'Dollar^  trained  by  Charles  Archer,  who 
told  me  he  had  not  the  least  fancy  for  her  ;  but  had 
thrown  away  **  a  tenner  "  just  for  consistency's  sake. 
I  decided  for  a  modest  "fiver"  on  Euclid  I  Miss 
Dollar  won  at  loo-i  ! 

Thus  did  I  place  more  faith  in  my  personal 
judgment  than  on  the  revelations  of  a  mysterious 
oracle,  greatly  to  my  chagrin  and  loss  ! 

On  one  other  occasion  only  have  I  dreamed  of  a 
race.  To  deal  with  this  I  have  to  go  back  to  the  Derby 
of  1879 — a  far  cry  1    I  had  dreamed  in  phantasmagoria 


26o  CHASING  AND  RACING 

fashion  that  the  great  race  was  to  be  contested  hy 
the  animal  kingdom  I  It  was  a  "  straight  run  and  in.'* 
The  winning-post  was  a  flagstaff  planted  in  the 
middle  of  the  course.  A  polyglot  field  turned  out  : 
lions,  tigers,  elephants,  bears,  deer,  pigs,  rabbits, 
and  what  not,  including  a  squirrel,  which  got  a  flying 
start,  reached  the  flagstaff,  a  distance  ahead  of  the 
others,  ran  up  it  and  sat  crunching  nuts  on  its 
summit. 

I  do  not  think  any  one  connected  with  racing 
knew  that  such  a  colt  as  The  Squirrel  was  entered  ; 
assuredly  /  did  not  !  and  yet  when  the  numbers 
went  up,  lo!  and  behold,  No,  33  was  Mr.  Acton's^ 
The  Squirrel ! 

I  was  a  very  modest  punter  in  those  days  ;  but  I 
had  my  humble  "  Jerry  o'  Goblin  *'  on  The  Squirrel 
at  50-1.  (Had  I  known  as  much  as  I  do  now  I  could 
have  had  500-1.) 

Now  Mr.  Acton  was  the  assumed  name  of  **  Leo  '* 
Rothschild,  so  The  Squirrel's  colours  were  **  Blue, 
yellow  cap,"  and  these  were  exceedingly  prominent 
on  the  stand  side  of  the  course  at  the  psychological 
moment.  What  is  more,  they  werq  first  past  the  post, 
and  my  callow  heart  rejoiced  with  an  exceeding  great 
joy.  Unfortunately  for  me  there  was  another  gee 
which  bore  the  same  resplendent  jacket  and  cap.  Sir 
Bevys,  to  wit,  who  afforded  George  Fordham  his  one 
and  only  victory  in  the  Derby. 

The  Squirrel  had  been  started  to  make  running  for 


CHASING  AND  RACING  261 

his  stable  companion,  and  he  did  not  wear  a  distinguish- 
ing cap  1     So  that  was  that  ! 

Incidentally,  I  may  remark  that  the  race  of  1879 
was  run  in  a  sea  of  mud,  and  that  Sir  Bevys  was  one  of 
the  worst  horses  that  ever  annexed  the  Blue  Ribbon  of 
the  Turf. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

yA  MONG   the   elder   school  of  jockeys    I   had 

/  ^         good    friends    in   Tom  Cannon,    senior, 

J^      ^       George  Fordham,  and  Johnny  Osborne. 

The  last  named  once  did  me  a  very  kindly 

service.     I  was  riding  in  a  "  mixed  "  race  at  Liverpool 

over  the  cup  course.     It  is  a  very  short  run  from  the 

starting-post  to  the  first  turn,  and  there  is  always  a 

scramble  to  get  well  placed  thereat.     On  this  occasion 

I  was  jammed  on  the  rails,  and  in  imminent  peril  of 

going  over  them,  horse  and  all,  when  Johnny  Osborne 

pulled  out,  crying,  **  Slip  up  here,  sir,  quick,  or  you'll 

be  on  the  floor  I  ''     Of  course  I  acted  on  the  invitation 

with  alacrity,  and  so  avoided  what  might  have  been  a 

very  ugly  accident. 

Tom  Cannon  essayed  to  do  me  a  bit  of  good,  but 
in  quite  a  different  connection.  I  was  walking  in  the 
paddock  at  Sandown,  deep  in  the  study  of  **  Form  at  a 
Glance,'*  when  suddenly  "  the  Backer's  Bible  "  was 
sent  flying  out  of  my  hands.  I  turned  round  in  wrath- 
ful astonishment  and  found  myself  facing  Tom. 

"  What's  up  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  as  I  stooped  to  recover 
the  volume.     **  Let  it  be,  squire,"  said  Tom;  "  if  you 

follow  that  you'll  be  broke  to  the  world  before  you're 

262 


CHASING  AND  RACING  263 

much  older."  Then  we  had  a  little  argument  ;  but 
I  have  since  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Tom  was 
right  ! 

Of  course  I  was  known  to,  and  knew,  practically- 
all  the  leading  jockeys  of  the  day,  and  one  time  and 
another  most  of  them  rode  for  me,  for  I  was  not  one 
of  those  favourites  of  fortune  whose  exchequer  permits 
of  their  giving  a  lucrative  "  retainer  '*  to  their  pet 
horseman  ;  so  I  had  to  take  my  chance  of  securing 
the  services  of  any  disengaged  and  competent  "jock  " 
on  the  day  of  the  race  toward.  When  I  could  get  him 
I  had  a  leaning  to  "  Morny  "  Cannon,  and  was  a 
patron  of  the  Chaloner  family.  George,  Dick,  and 
Phil  all  rode  for  me.  I  knew  the  Loates'  bunch. 
Charles  ("  Ben  ")  often  sported  my  "  two  greens,'* 
and  I  think  Tommy  did  so  on  one  occasion — Sam 
never  !  Otto  Madden,  T.  J.  Calder,  Walter  Bradford, 
and  Frank  Allsopp  (for  each  of  whom  I  held  a  very 
high  opinion)  were  either  apprentices,  or  just  out  of 
their  indentures,  when  I  first  put  them  up  ;  but  all 
subsequently  attained  high  distinction. 

The  few  horses  which  I  ran  over  the  sticks  or 
between  flags  were,  if  not  entrusted  to  my  friend, 
Roddy  Owen,  handled  by  Jesse  Page,  Prince's  Stable 
jockey,  or  by  Arthur  Nightingall.  **  Jesse  "  was  a 
first-rate  artist  at  the  so-called  illegitimate  game,  but 
he  hardly  looked  it  ;  for  he  was  round  as  a  little  apple, 
and,  like  myself,  very  short  from  the  hips  to  the  knee  ; 
nevertheless,  he  stuck  close  to  the  saddle  over  hurdles 


264  CHASING  AND  RACING 

or  fences,  and  incidentally  stuck  still  tighter  to  an 
opponent  in  a  close  finish. 

I  have  already  described  how  Arthur  Nightingall 
nearly  came  to  an  untimely  end  when  riding  my 
Chevy  Chase  in  the  "  Grand  prix  des  Haies/*  at 
Auteuil. 

A  good  yarn  is  told  of  George  Fordham,  which 
may  or  may  not  have  a  foundation  of  truth  ;  but  I 
expect  our  helpful  friend, "  Ben  Trovato,*'  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  its  embellishment.  As  the  story  goes, 
a  "  little  "  owner,  whose  methods  were  not  always  of 
the  "  Caesar's  wife  '*  class,  once  persuaded  George  to 
accept  the  mount  on  a  certain  plater,  whose  job  looked 
such  an  easy  one  that  substantial  odds  on  were  sure  to 
be  asked  for  and  laid.  As  in  the  case  of  the  sporting 
amateur  rider,  which  I  dealt  v/ith  earlier,  the  owner, 
when  giving  his  **  instructions  '*  to  Fordham,  winked 
the  eye  of  wickedness,  saying  in  effect  : 

**  The  horse  is  not  very  well  to-day.  Don't  knock 
him  about;  I  am  running  him  again  to-morrow.  He 
will  then  be  as  fit  as  a  fiddle,  and  you  can  win  with  him 
just  as  far  as  you  like,  and  back  him  till  the  cows  come 
home.     You  understand  what  I  mean  ?  " 

**  Oh  yes,  sir,"  said  George,  with  a  face  like  a  plate. 
**  I  know  what  you  mean  !  " 

History  has  it  that  the  great  little  jockey  cantered 
to  the  post,  where  he  proceeded  to  dismount,  gave  the 
horse  a  cut  with  his  whip,  and  turned  him  loose  with 
this  admonition  : 


CHASING  AND  RACING  265 

**  Go  home  to  your  master,  and  tell  him  that  I 
feared  I  could  not  do  justice  to  your  form,  so  thought 
you  would  race  better  without  me  !  " 

This  is  a  record  of  honesty  of  purpose  ;  now  comes 
the  antithesis. 

It  is  related  by  a  certain  friend  of  mine,  who  also 
was  an  amateur  rider  and  owner.  Here  again  methinks 
that  "  Ben  "  collaborated  in  the  output. 

The  episode  is  said  to  have  taken  place  at  Ascot, 
where  the  said  friend  (being  anxious  to  see  how  a  colt 
of  his  was  going,  in  a  mile  and  a  half  race,  when  still 
three  furlongs  from  home)  posted  himself  at  the  turn 
into  the  straight  out  of  the  Swinley  Bottom.  In  the 
race  in  question  two  of  the  most  fashionable  jockeys 
of  the  day  were  riding.  For  obvious  reasons  we  must 
invent  names  for  them,  de  mortuis  nil  nisi  honum^  you 
know  !  Let  us  call  one  "  Bud  ''  and  the  other  "  Jed  ** 
(no,  they  were  not  of  American  nationality). 

As  the  field  swept  round  the  turn  "  Jed  ''  was 
leading  ;  whilst  "  Bud "  was  rather  uncomfortably 
boxed  in  the  ruck.  The  latter  cried  out  imploringly, 
**  'Ere,  'old  'ard,  Jed — 'old  'ard  !  I  shall  never  get 
'ome  by  a  nob  1  " 

The  same  amateur,  who  was  an  Irishman,  by  the 
way,  had  a  good  story  about  a  "  rookie  in  racing  " 
from  the  wild  and  woolly  west  of  Connemara,  who  was 
taken  to  The  Curragh,  for  a  treat,  by  a  sporting  pal, 
who  proposed  to  mark  his  card  with  acumen  and 
precision  ;    but  Mickey  O'Hara,  as  we  will  call  him, 


266  CHASING  AND  RACING 

being  of  an  obstinate  and  independent  disposition, 
would  have  none  of  the  "  certs  '*  and  "  cinches '' 
selected  for  him  ;  but,  in  the  big  event,  insisted  on 
having  his  **  suv'rin  "  on  a  wretched  animal  which 
figured  among  the  "  any  price  you  like  others  *' 
division,  just  because,  if  you  please,  the  three- 
cornered  old  skin  was  named  **  St.  Patrick,"  and  its 
obscure  rider  was  garbed  in  a  green  jacket,  bearing 
the  Harp  of  Erin,  *'  back  and  front  !  *' 

Well,  "  the  patron  saint "  walked  in  with  the 
crowd,  some  two  hundred  yards  behind  the  rest  of  the 
field.  Mickey  elbowed  his  way  through  the  seething 
throng,  until  he  reached  the  object  of  his  investment  > 
tapping  the  jockey  on  the  knee  he  inquired  reproach- 
fully : 

**  Beggin'  yer  anner*s  ^2irdiOny  phwat  detained yez  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ARD  on  the  heels  of  dreams  come  strange 
examples    of    prescience,    presentment, 
telepathy,  premonition,  or  whatever  you 
choose  to  call   those   semi-occult,   sub- 
conscious phenomena  which   have  puzzled  scientists 
from  time  immemorial. 

During  one  era  of  my  racing  career  I  had  a  dear 
and  beautiful  friend  who  was  of  a  highly  sensitive 
and  receptive  nature.  She  was  par  excellence  a  subject 
for  hypnotism  and  suggestion.  I  could  put  her  into  a 
trance  almost  by  a  look,  or  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and 
when  in  a  hypnotic  state,  she  would  make  manifest 
most  extraordinary  phenomena,  among  which,  for 
example,  she  would  visualize  a  race,  describe  it  minutely, 
and  name  the  colours  of  the  riders.  I  had  not  the 
least  belief  in  her  being  able  to  foretell  the  ultimate 
result  of  a  contest  which  had  not  been  run,  but  out  of 
curiosity  I  tried  how  the  idea  would  work  out. 

My  first  venture  in  this  direction  was  on  the  eve  of 
the  Prince's  Handicap  at  Gatwick.  I  fancied  Cabin 
Boy,  belonging  to  my  friend  Hanbury,  very  strongly  ; 
but  my  "  medium  "  knew  nothing  of  that,  or,  indeed, 
the  names  of  any  of  the  horses  likely  to  run. 

As  soon  as  she  was   "off**  she  began  a  vivid 

267 


268  CHASING  AND  RACING 

description  of  the  race,  and  how  Cabin  Boy,  whose 
colours  she  described  correctly  (though  she  was  not 
acquainted  with  them),  won  comfortably.  This  vision 
was  repeated  seriatim  in  the  issue. 

The  fact  may  not  be  as  astonishing  as  at  first 
thoughts  it  might  appear,  and  may  have  been  the  result 
of  a  telepathy  which  enabled  her  to  voice  my  own 
figuring  of  what  was  likely  to  happen. 

The  next  case  is  rather  more  mysterious.  I  had 
gone  to  Goodwood  in  1893  for  the  purpose  of  backing 
a  certain  animal  which  I  fancied  at  the  weights;  whilst 
my  friend  had  remained  in  London.  My  selection 
was  not  even  placed.  A  passer-by  in  the  paddock 
informed  me  that  there  was  a  telegram  for  me  on  the 
board.     When  I  retrieved  it,  it  read  : 

"  Medora  is  certain  to  win.'* 

It  was  from  my  hypnotic  subject,  and  the  official 
time  of  dispatch  was  one  and  a  half  hours  before  that 
set  down  for  the  race  to  be  run  ! 

When  we  met  again  I  questioned  her  as  to  the 
why  and  wherefore  of  her  wire.  She  told  me  that  on 
the  day  of  the  Stewards'  Cup  she  had  fallen  asleep  in 
her  boudoir  and  had  seen  that  race  as  in  a  dream,  quite 
clearly  and  distinctly.  A  filly  with  a  jockey  in  all  scarlet 
had  won,  and  on  consulting  the  list  of  probable  runners, 
as  set  forth  in  The  Sportsman^  she  found  it  was  Medora 
(whose  name,  so  she  emphatically  informed  me,  she 
had  never  previously  heard),  whereupon  she  imme- 
diately wired  to  me  as  quoted. 


CHASING  AND?RACING  269 

In  this  case  I  had  no  fancy  for  the  bearer  of  the 
**  Grafton  Scarlet,"  so  that  evidently  telepathy  was  not 
responsible  for  the  forecast. 

I  next  tried  her  for  "  The  Caesare witch/*  and  as  she 
named  a  gee  which  I  thought  particularly  well  handi- 
capped, I  had  a  flutter,  but  in  the  issue  it  was  among 
the  **  also  ran."  Henceforth  my  fair  friend  firmly 
refused  to  act  as  prophetess,  nor  did  I  persist  in  in- 
fluencing her  to  do  so  ;  but  in  1896  she  had  a  "  pre- 
sentiment "  as  regards  the  result  of  the  Derby,  which 
was  certainly  remarkable. 

Early  in  the  flat-racing  season  I  had  run  across 
Hayhoe,  who  then  was  training  for  "  Leo  "  Rothschild. 

**  You  have  a  very  smart  string  this  season,  Hayhoe, 
have  you  not .''  "  I  asked. 

**  Nuggets,  sir — Nuggets  !  "  was  his  brief  reply. 

Every  horse  emanating  from  that  stable  carried 
my  money.  They  kept  winning,  and  as  each  one 
**  clicked  "  I  put  half  the  winnings  on  St.  Frusquin 
for  the  Derby.  Therefore  when  the  great  day  came 
I  stood  to  win  a  very  nice  little  packet  on  the  bearer  of 
the  blue  jacket  and  yellow  cap.  My  friend  had  all 
along  shared  my  confidence  in  St.  Frusquin,  but  almost 
at  the  last  moment  she  implored  me  to  hedge. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Cockie,  dear,"  she  said,  "  but  St. 
Frusquin  will  not  win,  he  will  be  beaten  by  Persimmon. 
I  have  seen  it — I  know  it  !  "  At  first  I  obstinately 
stood  to  my  guns,  but  when  I  was  told  that  "  Mr.  Leo  " 
was  not  present — because  it  was  the  anniversary  of  his 


270  CHASING  AND  RACING 

Grandfather^ s  death  * — I  began  to  pay  more  heed  to  the 
oracle  of  fate  and  hedged  a  bit  ;  but  I  was  a  loser  on 
the  race. 

When  presentiments  materialize  in  any  event,  one 
is  apt  to  regard  them  with  more  veneration  than 
perhaps  they  deserve  ;  but  how  often  is  it  that  these 
same  presentiments  turn  out  to  be  mere  nervous 
hallucinations.  In  such  cases  one  sits  tight  and 
says  nothing  about  them. 

My  bad  luck  over  St.  Frusquin  was  an  echo  of 
what  occurred  in  1892,  when  half  of  every  bet  which  I 
landed  went  on  La  Fleche  for  the  Derby.  I  had  a 
wholesome  dread  of  Orme  (for  I  held  a  very  high 
opinion  of  the  Duke  of  Westminster's  champion),  and 
was  prepared  to  cover  on  him.  When  the  numbers 
went  up,  the  unfortunate  and  suspicious  occurrence 
which  had  placed  him  hors  de  combat  left,  as  I 
figured  it,  a  very  easy  journey  open  for  Baron  Hirsch's 
flyer.  But  on  arriving  at  Epsom  she  went  all  wrong, 
and  was  a  shadow  of  herself,  which  was  revealed  in 
the  preliminary  canter. 

History  relates  how  Sir  Hugo  took  her  number 
down.  What  a  lucky  gee  !  What  a  lucky  owner  I 
That  poor  La  Fleche  was  stones  below  par,  was  proved 
when  a  moderate  filly,  such  as  The  Smew,  got  to  her 
head  in  The  Oaks.     At  her   best,   the  daughter  of 

*  From  this  it  would  seem  that  Mr.  Leo  Rothschild  *'  had  a 
hunch  "  that  his  colt  was  doomed  to  defeat  by  the  Prince's 
champion. 


CHASING  AND  RACING  271 

St.  Simon  could  have  given  this  one  two  stone  and 
lost  her  ! 

A  propos  St.  Simon,  this  equine  wonder  was  the 
means  of  landing  me  my  first  substantial  wager.  To 
narrate  the  circumstance  I  must  go  back  to  my  salad 
days. 

It  was  Gold  Cup  day  at  Ascot,  1884.  I  had  been 
betting  in  humble  sovereigns  to  begin  with.  It  was 
a  black  Ascot  for  me  when  Thursday  arrived,  for  in  an 
attempt  to  **  get  home  "  I  had  begun  what  to  me,  in 
those  days,  counted  as  desperate  plunging,  and  so  I 
found  myself  over  ;£300  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  book. 
A  mere  trifle  you  will  say,  but  believe  me,  I  did  not  so 
regard  it  at  the  time.  I  consulted  a  certain  noble  lord 
of  my  acquaintance  who  had  the  reputation  of  being  an 
infallible  judge  of  form.     He  said  : 

**  I  don*t  advise  you  to  plunge  ;  but  there  is  a 
certainty  to-day.  Barring  accidents  St.  Simon  is  sure 
to  win  the  Cup.'' 

Of  course  I  myself  felt  confident  of  the  colt's  ability 
to  score,  but  my  friend's  pronouncement  heartened  me 
to  desperation.     So  I  sought  out  Fry. 

**  What  can  I  lay  you  St.  Simon  for  the  Cup  }  " 
I  asked. 

**  Take  you  seven  pounds  to  four,  sir."  The 
leviathan  was  accustomed  to  my  modest  investments. 

"  I'll  lay  you  ;^7oo  to  ;£400,"  I  said  casually. 

Fry  never  moved  a  muscle  of  his  countenance,  but 
turned  quietly  to  his  clerk  ; 


272  CHASING  AND  RACING 

**  Seven  hundred  to  four  on  St.  Simon,  Mr.  Harding 
Cox." 

You  may  imagine  my  feelings  during  the  pre- 
liminaries, but  they  were  as  nothing  to  those  I  suffered 
during  the  race.  When  the  small  field  swung  out  of 
the  Swinley  Bottom  and  came  thundering  up  the 
straight.  Archer,  on  the  favourite,  seemed  lost  in 
admiration  of  the  neat  polish  of  his  tops.  He  sat  as 
still  as  a  statue.  All  the  other  jockeys  were  either 
niggling  or  hard  at  work.  St.  Simon  sailed  past  the 
post  with  his  ears  cocked,  but  I  was  not  really  happy 
until  the  "  all  right  **  was  signalled. 

I  was  nearly  ^^loo  to  the  good,  and  as  my  luck  was 
evidently  in,  I  had  a  go  on  the  Friday,  and  having 
backed  the  winner  of  The  Wokingham  (at  a  nice  price), 
and  dear  old  Corrie  Roy  for  The  Alexandra  Plate,  I 
went  home  rejoicing. 

Here  endeth  my  reminiscences  as  far  as  racing  and 
hunting  are  concerned. 


ENVOI 

TO  my  everlasting  shame  I  must  confess  to 
being  one  of  those  miserable  creatures 
who  must  have  a  finger  in  every  pie,  the 
savour  of  which  appeals  to  his  appetite. 
Upon  my  word,  if  I  were  given  the  choice  of  beginning 
all  over  again,  I  should  be  on  the  horns  of  a  pretty 
dilemma,  and  were  I  allowed  the  choice  of  one  sport, 
one  pastime,  and  one  artistic  occupation,  and  one  only  of 
each^  on  which  I  must  perforce  concentrate  all  my 
energies,  I  could  not,  for  the  life  of  me,  come  to  a 
decision  such  as  would  leave  me  complacent  and 
content  with  such  choice. 

Were  I,  for  instance,  to  select  as  my  most  attractive 
trio,  race-riding,  cricket,  and  painting,  I  should  have 
strong  yearnings  towards  angling,  rowing,  and  acting; 
coursing,  dog-breeding  and  exhibiting,  and  musical 
composition  ;  or  hunting,  billiards,  and  lyrical  effu- 
sions ;  without  being  able  to  rid  my  mind  of  leanings 
towards  the  more  essentially  sporting  forms  of  shooting. 
This  kink  in  my  composition  betrays  the  existence 
of  a  virulent  and  chronic  complaint  known  as  versa- 
tility, which   is    a   veritable   curse  to  those  whom  it 

^1^  T 


274  CHASING  AND   RACING 

attacks.  It  has  its  side  issues,  its  by-products,  and  its 
complications  too.  Par  exemple^  we  will  say  I  have 
finally  decided  on  angling,  dog-breeding  (including 
training,  exhibiting,  and  judging),  and  musical  com- 
position. I  should,  as  regards  the  first,  want  to  cast  my 
lines  in  all  directions  ;  salmon  for  choice,  then  in  their 
declining  order,  trout,  grayling,  and  all  the  so-called 
**  coarse  "  fish,  from  the  voracious  pike  to  the  humble 
gudgeon.  But  hold  !  What  about  sea-fish  ?  Oh 
yes,  I  should  yearn  to  hie  me  to  Florida  to  fight  tarpon, 
or  to  Santa  Catalina  in  pursuit  of  tuna,  king  fish,  yellow 
tails,  albacore,  sharks,  and  what  not.  In  our  home 
waters  I  should  want  to  be  after  tope,  skate,  congers, 
hake,  ling,  turbot,  plaice,  pollack,  sea-bream,  mackerel, 
whiting,  cod,  mullet,  bass,  etc.,  even  including  such 
unconsidered  trifles  as  dabs  and  pouting. 

Then  regarding  the  bow-wows,  I  should  make  a 
bargain  with  Fate  that  I  was  not  to  be  limited  to  the 
sporting  division  alone,  or  to  one  breed  of  sporting 
dog  ;  I  should  want  to  practise  my  knowledge  of 
canine  eugenics  on  retrievers,  spaniels,  pointers,  and 
setters  ;  on  bull-dogs,  bull-terriers,  and  fox-terriers  ; 
on  greyhounds  and  whippets,  just  for  a  start  ! 

Then  when  it  pleased  me  to  exert  my  talent  (alleged) 
for  melody,  I  should  soar  to  the  heights  of  Parnassus, 
in  an  estacy  of  classical  afflatus.  But  next  day 
syncopated  rag-time  would  occupy  the  aural  stops  in 
my  brain.  Anon  I  would  wander  off  into  lilting  valse 
refrains  and  then   burst  into  martial  marches,   with 


CHASING  AND   RACING  275 

Interludes  of  jigs  (Atavistic  fancies  recurring  from  a  long 
line  of  Hibernian  ancestors).  But  I  am  wandering — 
revenons  a  nos  moutons  ! 

This  little  excursion  to  the  abstract  leads  me  to  say 
a  few  words  as  to  legitimate  sport  in  general,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  pastimes  and  contests. 

Our  term  "  sport  "  covers  too  much  ground,  as 
does  its  corollary  "  sportsman."  My  definition  of 
**  sport  "  for  what  it  is  worth,  is  "  an  occupation  where- 
in man,  with  or  without  the  aid  of  trained  animals,  sets 
forth  to  find  his  quarry  and  to  kill,  or  otherwise  account 
for  it,  in  a  legitimate  manner.**  Any  one  so  engaged 
may  be  termed  *'  a  sportsman." 

Per  Contra,  A  youth  who  spends  his  spare  time 
(and  what  a  lot  of  it,  too  !)  watching  professional 
football,  and  betting  thereon,  may  imagine  himself  a 
sportsman,  but  most  assuredly  he  is  not !  Nor  is  he 
who  goes  to  race  meetings  and  criticizes  jockeys,  when 
he  himself  would  not  throw  his  leg  over  a  trained  race- 
horse for  all  the  wealth  of  Ind. 

There  is  the  "  National  Sporting  Club."  What 
a  misnomer  !  The  institution  has  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  sport  !  Its  chief,  nay,  practically  its  only, 
function  is  to  stage  boxing  shows. 

Now  boxing  is  not  a  sport,  even  for  the  principals 
engaged.  It  is  "  a  competitive  pastime,"  a  most 
excellent  one  at  that,  making,  as  it  does,  for  skill,  pluck, 
and  physical  and  moral  endurance  ;  but  as  for  the  on- 
lookers, who  do  not  possess  any  of  these  desirable 


2  76  CHASING  AND   RACING 

attributes,  I  am  inclined  to  direct  on  them  the  lemon 
eye  of  contempt. 

Field  sports  proper  consist,  to  my  mind,  only  of 
hunting,  coursing,  falcony,  angling,  and  shooting. 

There  are  forms  of  the  last-named  which  I  would 
eliminate  from  the  category.  Pigeon  shooting,  i.e,  trap 
shooting,  of  course  ;  for  its  most  ardent  votaries  never 
claimed  it  as  a  sport.  It  is,  or  rather  was,  essentially  a 
trial  of  skill,  with  money  or  other  prizes  offered  for 
competition  ;  moreover,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  was 
a  medium  for  considerable  gambling.  The  Bill  which 
was  passed  in  the  summer  of  1 92 1  enacted  that  shooting 
birds  or  animals  from  traps  or  other  contrivances  or 
from  the  hand  is  illegal. 

The  shooting  of  hand-reared  pheasants  or  wild- 
duck  at  battues,  where  the  birds  are  segregated  in 
limited  areas,  so  that  they  are  easily  located  by  the 
keeper,  who  is  cognizant  of  their  numbers,  is  a  very 
doubtful  "  sport.'*  This,  too,  I  should  call  a  trial  of 
skill,  and  it  is  only  the  absence  of  betting  and  the  award 
of  prizes  which  raises  it  above  the  level  of  pigeon 
shooting  ;  for  here  we  have  hundreds  of  one  species 
only,  hemmed  in  with  wire  netting  and  prevented  from 
breaking  away  at  awkward  points  by  "  stops,"  i,e,  small 
boys,  whose  sticks,  kept  tapping,  turn  the  running 
pheasants  to  the  right  about  and  send  them  within  the 
encircling  line  of  beaters.  By  such  methods  an 
efficient  drive  ensures  that  the  birds  can  be  driven  out 
at  practically  any  desired  corner,  where  the  guns  are 


CHASING  AND   RACING  277 

so  placed  that  they  have  every  opportunity  of  proving 
their  quality  as  "  shots.'*  Admittedly  the  beat  is 
generally  so  contrived  that  the  birds  may  get  well  on 
the  wing  and  in  the  full  impetus  of  flight  before  they 
fly  the  gauntlet  of  shot  that  awaits  them. 

Otherwise,  where  is  the  difference  between  a 
pigeon  released  from  a  trap,  or  a  pheasant  driven  out 
of  cover  at  a  given  point  ?  In  both  cases  the  birds  are 
the  target  for  a  stationary  marksman,  and  in  neither  has 
the  shooter  the  sporting  pleasure  oi finding  them,  or  of 
employing  a  dog,  except  as  a  means  of  retrieving  the 
casualties. 

As  for  the  charge  of  cruelty  and  barbarity  which 
has  been  levelled  against  pigeon  shooting,  it  is  a  cry 
of  canting  hypocrisy  when  raised  by  other  votaries  of 
the  gun,  who  delight  in  a  holocaust  of  pheasant 
feathers.  Believe  me,  there  is  far  more  torture  inflicted 
on  the  long-tails  than  on  the  gentle  "  doves."  I  have 
shot,  in  my  time,  thousands  of  pheasants  and  thousands 
of  pigeons,  and  if  asked  where  the  greater  cruelty 
occurs,  I  should  say,  without  hesitation,  in  the  shooting, 
at  battues,  of  the  former.  If  a  pigeon  falls  within  the 
boundary  of  the  ground,  it  is  quickly  retrieved  by  the 
dog,  and  if  alive,  is  skilfully  put  out  of  its  misery.  If  it 
goes  away  wounded,  it  seldom  passes  the  "  scouts 
outside,"  but  if  it  does  so,  it  returns  to  its  loft,  is 
examined  by  the  pigeon  purveyor,  and  if  found  to  be 
at  all  seriously  wounded  is  forthwith  destroyed. 

But  what  of  the  pheasant,  the  victim  of  an  inferior 

T    2 


278  CHASING  AND  RACING 

elevation,  which  goes  away  with  both  legs  shattered, 
but  wings  intact  ?  Many  a  time  and  oft  have  I, 
when  shooting  shaws  and  hedgerows,  three  or  four 
days  after  a  big  covert  shoot  has  taken  place,  come 
across  a  wretched  pheasant  lying  helpless  in  a  ditch, 
in  the  last  throes  of  thirst  and  starvation,  with  its 
terrible  wounds  gangrened.  Oh  yes,  I  know  it  is  the 
practice  of  the  keepers  to  go  round  with  their  dogs 
immediately  after  a  shoot,  to  collect  and  despatch  the 
wounded,  but  the  rule  is  very  often  more  honoured 
in  the  breach  than  in  the  observation,  because,  in  order 
to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  casualties,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  enter  and  disturb  unshot  coverts  which 
had  been  allocated  to  another  day. 

In  any  case  a  large  proportion  of  victims  are  so 
hidden  that  they  are  not  discovered,  and  thus  are  left 
to  perish  miserably  ;  unless  perchance,  a  vagrant  fox 
or  stoat  comes  along  to  administer  the  coup  de  grace. 

On  some  moors,  grouse  driving  is  not  a  matter  of 
choice,  but  of  necessity  ;  though  whenever  and 
wherever  the  bonnie  brown  birds  can  be  shot  over 
dogs,  the  true  sportsman  will  elect  so  to  account  for 
them.  I  regard,  with  something  bordering  on  con- 
tempt, the  driving  purist  who  seriously  tells  me  he 
would  not  waste  time  finding  and  flushing  grouse  on 
their  native  heather,  because  they  offer  such  an  easy 
mark  that  their  killing  becomes  a  certainty  and  conse- 
quently wearisome.  This  is  rubbish  !  The  best  shot 
in  the  world,  after  shinning  up  a  rugged  mountain  side 


CHASING  AND   RACING  279 

and  wading  through  knee-high  heather,  on  a  hot  August 
afternoon,  may  well  miss,  right  and  left,  a  brood  of 
grouse  rising  almost  at  his  feet,  even  when  he  has  a 
firm  stance  ;  but  if  he  has  one  foot  on  a  boulder  and 
the  other  in  a  moss  hole,  it  is  odds  that  he  will  do  so  1 
I  would  give  such  an  one  a  hundred  cartridges  and  bet 
him  two  to  one  he  would  not  bring  home  twenty-five 
brace  of  grouse — walked  up  ;  though  he  might  be 
sure  of  producing  the  percentage  at  the  butts. 

The  same  applies  to  partridge  shooting.  I  con- 
sider the  driven  partridge,  coming  down  wind  in  full 
flight,  to  offer  the  greatest  test  of  skill  which  the  gun 
can  be  put  to.  I  may  say  that  this  form  of  trial  is  one 
which  I  have  not  shone  at  as  consistently  as  I  should 
have  desired.  Sometimes  I  have  performed  almost 
brilliantly,  at  others  I  have  shown  form  which  would 
disgrace  a  neophyte.  Self-confidence  is  the  great 
thing  !  When  the  eye  obeys  the  brain,  and  transmits 
its  message  to  the  hand  correctly,  the  gun  is  thrown  up 
at  the  proper  alignment  and  a  kill  follows  ;  but  let  a 
shooter  miss  unexpectedly,  and  then  begin  to  wonder 
why,  and  he  is  lost  ;  his  confidence  is  gone,  and  he 
begins  mentally  measuring  distances  and  allowances. 
He  *'  pokes  "  at  his  birds,  with  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence that  he  misses  time  after  time. 

Partridge  driving  has  its  uses,  especially  late  in  the 
season  ;  but  it  lacks  the  joy  of  setting  out  on  a  fine 
September  morning,  to  begin  on  an  expansive  field  of 
roots,  with  a  brace  of  staunch  pointers  (which  work  in 


28o  CHASING  AND  RACING 

harmony  and  back  one  another  faultlessly),  and  a  good 
retriever  or  spaniel  that  will  drop  to  shot  and  wing, 
and  never  leave  a  runner  until  it  is  safe  in  his  tender 
mouth  I 

It  may  be  very  satisfactory  to  your  stationary 
shooter  to  swank,  in  the  evening,  how  he  had  two 
dead  rocketters  in  the  air  at  once,  and  doubled  up  a 
third  with  his  second  gun,  and  how  he  had  at  least 
fifty  birds  on  the  ground  at  once  at  that  hot  corner  ! 
The  satisfaction  may  even  be  more  acute,  if  he  has 
seen  his  next-door  neighbour,  that  crack  shot,  Lord 
Slammenem,  blow  the  tail  out  of  one  cock  and  drop 
a  leg  of  another. 

But  give  me  a  boon  companion,  a  staunch  pointer,  a 
brace  of  cockers,  and  a  flat-coated  retriever  of  my  own 
particular  breed,  and  set  me  on  a  great  expanse  of 
marsh  where  snipe  abound,  and  duck  are  frequently 
met  with  ;  where,  on  the  sides  of  the  heather-clad  hills 
which  surround  it,  grouse  can  be  walked  up,  and  many 
a  woodcock  flushed.  Give  me  these  conditions,  I 
repeat,  and  you  can  have  all  the  pheasant  battues  and 
grouse  and  partridge  drives,  and  all  the  boasting  of  your 
prowess  with  the  shooting  iron,  that  your  heart  may 
desire  ! 

Of  falconry  I  know  little,  but  it  must  be  a  very 
pretty  sport,  and  one  which  requires  a  great  knowledge 
of  nature  and  skill  in  training  and  retaining  your 
birds. 


CHASING  AND   RACING  281 

When  I  was  asked  by  the  Duke  of  Beaufort  *  to 
write  on  **  Coursing  **  for  the  Badminton  Library,  it 
was  decided  that  *'  Falconry  *'  should  be  incorporated 
in  the  volume,  so  that  I  had  an  opportunity  of  studying 
the  sport  (on  paper)  so  ably  dealt  with  by  the  Hon. 
Gerald  Lascelles  ;  but  I  have  never  had  an  ocular 
demonstration  of  its  thrills,  except  occasionally  when, 
in  the  course  of  my  ramblings,  I  have  witnessed  an 
impromptu  flight.  I  have  seen  a  female  sparrow-hawk 
stoop  to,  and  strike,  a  pigeon  ;  and  a  pair  of  these 
aggressive  hawks  outmanoeuvre  a  heron  and  bring 
him  to  earth  after  a  most  exciting  set-to.  The 
"  frankie  "  would  throw  himself  on  his  back  in  the  air, 
and  as  one  of  the  hawks  **  stooped,**  he  would  attempt 
to,  and  nearly  succeed  in  transfixing  it  with  a  dagger- 
like thrust  of  his  lethal  bill  ;  but  the  end  came  when 
the  smaller  hawk  (male)  made  a  flank  attack,  at  the 
same  moment  as  his  mate  "  stooped  "  from  above. 
They  met  on  the  vile  body  of  the  heron,  a.nd  all  three 
descended,  in  a  cloud  of  feathers,  into  a  large  bed  of 
reeds  growing  in  a  foot  of  water.  I  ran  as  hard  as  I 
could  to  the  spot,  when  the  heron  rose  laboriously  and 
much  the  worse  for  wear.  The  male  hawk  also  made 
oflF  at  sight  of  me  ;  but  where  was  the  big  hen  ?  It 
is  possible  that  Mr.  Heron  had  skewered  her  ;  though 
I  failed  to  find  anything  but  a  sprinkling  of  feathers  to 
denote  where  the  trio  had  landed. 

*  And  also  by  his  representative,  my  old  friend,  Alfred  Watson, 
better  known  as  "  Rapier  "  of  the  Sporting  and  Dramatic  News. 


282  CHASING  AND   RACING 

In  Egypt  I  saw  quite  a  lot  of  natural  falconry.  No 
sooner  did  we  commence  operations,  when  out  quail 
shooting,  than  we  were  followed  by  hawks  and  falcons 
of  many  varieties,  and  these  would  stoop  to  the  little 
birds  as  we  flushed  them  in  the  most  audacious  fashion, 
altogether  ignoring  the  fact  that  they  themseves  were 
in  peril  of  their  lives  from  villainous  explosives  ;  but 
we  were  so  interested  and  amused  by  their  evolutions 
that  we  invariably  spared  the  raiders. 


THE    END 


Webster  FamlSy  Library  of  Veterinary  Fvledicine 
Cummings  School  of  Veterinary  iVieciicine  at 
Tiiits  University 


/\i\n    s  *  I 


ii_ «~«i  -  _  .1 


